Somewhere in the Middle
by Darkestforever
Summary: This companion to 'In This Life'. Caught in the lingering throes insanity, Nowaki needs a lifeline in the wastelands of his madness. Two unlikely men will accompany on the journey to recovery and hope. Include Nowaki, Shinobu and Miyagi chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: Somewhere In The Middle**

**By**

Darkestforever 

Couple: Junjou Terrorist/ Junjou Egoist

**Disclaimer**: All characters featured in this story are the creative property of the managaka who loving drew the Junjou universe. I would like to thank the amazing Musicians of the world who gifted me the inspirational music that gave rise to this these stories

**Summary:**

These accompanying short stories to 'In This Life', which explains what happened after Nowaki, attempted to take his own life. Focusing on the events that occur behind the scenes in 'In This Life'; showing how Miyagi to forms a friendship with Nowaki. How Nowaki learns to cope with his grief and learn that even after death life has to continue because sometimes fate has more in-store for us than we can imagine...

Warning... this story hasn't been beta-read as my girl is swamped with work. As I am waiting for her to get back to me with the next chapter of In This Life, I decided to upload the raw form of this to bide time. Second part of Somewhere in the Middle should be up by Friday. I am hopeful that In This Life will be online by next week at the latest. Tomorrow at the earliest but no promises. Apologies for the late forth coming of the chapters but trust me its worth it!

**Somewhere In The Middle (Casting Crowns): Part One**

I wanted a perfect ending, now I've learned, the hard way, that some poems don't rhyme.

And some stories don't have clear beginnings, middles and endings.

Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it.

Without knowing what's going to happen next.

~Gilda Radner ~

**3:17 AM February 16****th**

When the phone rings at three in the morning, it heralds bad fortune…

Bri-iiing.

Briii-iiing.

Briiiii-iiing

Growling into his pillow as he was rudely awakened, Miyagi snatched up the receiver. His lover stirred next to him. There was a brief pause of silence. Sitting up, he threw off the covers and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Rubbing his face, he groaned at the hour illuminated on the alarm clock.

If this was a godforsaken sale call…

Beside him, Shinobu groaned, pushing himself onto one elbow he sleepily glared at the alarm clock, then winced at the time. Unimpressed with the hour, Shinobu flopped back into his pillow. Miyagi pitied the younger man; he was under so much duress at the moment with his law exams. Feeling irritated on his lover's behalf, Miyagi turned to address the unfortunate caller.

"Miyagi speaking." Miyagi said, his resolve holding not to yell abuse at the caller.

There was a momentary pause.

"Sumimasen deshita," the caller answered graciously. "Am I speaking to Professor Miyagi Yoh of M-University?"

"Yes, speaking."

"Thank goodness," a relieved voice sighed. "My name is Doctor Nadzuki Aoika, I work for the Tokyo Metropolitan Hiroo Hospital. Sir, I understand it is late. But, I am afraid I need to ask your assistance on a crucial matter."

"What is this in regards to?" Miyagi asked reaching for yesterday's shirt.

"Its about my patient, Dr Kusama."

Miyagi paused in buttoning his shirt. His eyes widened a little at the announcement of the name. Frowning, Miyagi wondered why on earth the hospital would be contacting him about Kamijou's lover. The image of the tall dark haired man who had violently reacted to his attempt to kiss Kamijou filled his mind. Enraged blue eyes glinting like daggers. A shiver passed down his spine at the memory, the man had one hell of a hold.

"Dr Kusama?" He asked switching the phone to his other ear. "As in Kusama Nowaki?"

"Yes, Miyagi-sensei." The doctor confirmed. "He's in critical condition here at Hiroo."

"What happened?"

"I am afraid I can't discuss the condition over the phone with anyone but his family," the Doctor formally replied. "I am already stretching the rules to contact yourself, but I am struggling to find any immediate kin for Dr Kusama. Your office was registered as an emergency contact number, I am hoping you can assist me in tracing his family."

Sighing, Miyagi felt his head throb. Oh boy, this was going to be a long day! Rubbing a hand over his tired face, he promised the doctor he would be right over to the hospital.

As he finished dressing, Miyagi leant over to brush a hand through his lover's sandy brown hair. His lover still looked like a high-school student in his sleep; Shinobu was maturing slowly into manly figure as he aged, but like a good wine he was just becoming an exceptional vintage as time passed. He placed a kiss on Shinobu's exposed cheek.

"I'll be back soon," he whispered against his lover's sensitive ear, eliciting a shudder from the younger man.

"Promise me breakfast?" Shinobu groggily responded.

"Deal Shinobu-chin." Miyagi smiled. "As long as you promise to thank me properly."

"Insatiable old man!" Shinobu snorted into his pillow, as he drifted back to his land of Miyagi.

*****

Doctor Nadzuki was a petite woman in her late thirties. Behind quirky sparkly pink glasses, she surveyed Miyagi, before concluding her evaluation of her patient. The outlook was grim; the pale body lying in the hospital bed, breathing with the aid of a machine, was barely clinging to life with a frail thread. Kusama had sustained a broken femur, shattered ribs, punctuated lung and concussion with the collision with the water. Additionally, he had suffered asphyxiation from ingesting river water- the doctors were concerned that hypoxia might have occurred, resulting in damage to the internal organs and the brain through oxygen starvation. Glancing through the observation window, Miyagi realised the gravity of the situation. Words weren't necessary to stress that the cataleptic form might not survive the night.

"There could be more unfortunate news yet to come," Dr Nadzuki continued. "I have sent for toxic screens as I believe he might have attempted an over-dose before jumping."

"Shit!" Miyagi cursed. "He was determined."

"Appears so," the doctor agreed sadly. "I don't understand what drives a man to be so committed to dying with a background like his. He's an excellent paediatrician according to my acquaintances."

That's easy, Miyagi thought. Loose the heart of your world.

"Six years ago on valentine's day, he lost his lover."

"Oh." Violet eyes flared wide open surprised.

As he answered her question his throat constricted with emotion. He never could talk about Kamijou without that choking sensation. The devil professor owned a special affection in Miyagi's heart; naming the sensation was impossible. He had debated several long nights after his brown-haired professor had passed on the exact definition of those emotional ties. There existed no simple name for the phenomenon. All, Miyagi could successful conclude was few would fill the shoes of that brown-eyed demon left. He had been a friend; a lover; a teacher; a son; someone to love and someone to hate. He was the character that linked the world together, but never known his true worth.

Miyagi smiled at the surfacing memory. In the interview for his professorship placement, Kamijou had inspired Miyagi with his passion and devotion to literature. Hidden was deep anguish and suffering that dwelt behind chain-mail armour that was full of holes. He had recognised a kindred soul in the man. Kusama had been the source of that affliction, he had later learnt, but he didn't begrudge the man. He had witnessed a miracle with their love. Fate could be kind to some, like his assistant professor and this doctor. It granted second chances. However, Fate was still a bloody cruel bastard.

Life needed a manual- for too late did humans recognise how precious is the time lovers' share. Wise old farts ought to really state clearly on the label of life the soul-destroying dangers of love. So many ghostly regrets rot the soul after the death of a loved one. Miyagi understood that infliction too well. A sad smile twitched at his lip as he fingered his keys in his pocket, his fingers resting on his lover's key chain. For all that can be lost, there could be much gained in life too.

Sometimes, Fate could be merciful.

Sometimes, once in a lifetime love could happen twice.

Fate was still an evil son of a bitch.

Leaning on the end of the bed, he surveyed the wan grey figure lying in the bed.

"Doctor, honestly what are his chances?"

Large violet eyes looked straight up at his own, with a bleak gaze. "If he survives the next twenty-four hours, he has maybe a thirty percent chance of recovering with some hope of a normal life. To be honest, if he makes to this evening, I will be thoroughly surprised."

"Not great odds."

"No, if I were a gambling woman, Miyagi-sensei, I would throw my lot in with a better horse." The doctor answered picking up Kusama's notes, she sighed. "If he survives he is going to need a lot of therapy."

*****

Miyagi awoke a little later to find his lover standing over him. Shinobu was still dressed in his office suit, hinting he had come straight from his law firm to the hospital. Dropping his briefcase beside the vacant visitors chair, he took the seat and his lover's hand. No words were spoken as they both stared the unconscious man before them.

Rubbing a weary hand over his face, Miyagi groaned. "What time is it?"

"Just past seven pm," Shinobu answered in a whisper, lacing his fingers with his lover's, he snuggled closer to the elder man. Awkwardly lifting their clasped hands, Miyagi crossed Shinobu's left arm over the younger man's chest, drawing him back to rest against his body. Tilting Shinobu's face toward him, he consumed his lover's lips in a fierce, hungry kiss. Shinobu yelped and moaned at the brute force of the kiss. As Miyagi plundered his lover's mouth, his only thoughts where to possess the man he loved, seeking comfort in the warmth of living love.

Afterwards, they sat silently embraced staring at the frail life before them. Miyagi held Shinobu closely, grateful to the Fates for his lover's presence and the fact that Kusama had survived his first molehill. There was a fighting chance now. Resting, his head against the softness of Shinobu's hair, he inhaled deeply the soothing smell of apples from the younger man's shampoo and fresh scent that was Shinobu's own.

"How is he?"

"Touch and go. He's got an pulmonary infection."

"What did the doctors say?" Shinobu asked softly.

"That's he will need a hell of a lot of therapy when he wakes up."

Shinobu chuckled. "We should eat."

Glancing at the clock, Miyagi noted the time. There was another hour before the new doctor's rounds would begin. He had eaten very little that day having sat watch over Kusama. He would just let the nurses' station know they were going to the hospital restaurant, in case the doctors wanted to speak to him.

"Hmm. We should." Brushing a kiss against Shinobu's cheek, which made the younger man blush in surprise, Miyagi whispered against his ear. " Just no cabbage or pumpkin."

Trembling, Shinobu groaned at the breathy caress of his ear.

"Baka." He gasped as Miyagi stole another kiss.

Retreating, he grinned wickedly as he left Shinobu needy and aroused from the attentions he had bestowed.

"Let's eat shall we?"

*****

Cold blackness greeted him.

In the darkness was the mechanical beeping of a respirator. A strange heaviness haunted his limbs. The haziness of his mind told his medical brain a drug -induced paralyzing kept him still. Opening his eyes, blurry spectres rushed around the periphery of his vision. Lifting a heavy hand, he clutched feebly at the ventilator mask. Wires touch him everywhere; electrodes, nasogastric tubes, tracheal tubes. Strange squawky nose emit from his throat as he tried to call out at the pain.

Tears leak from the corners of his eyes as he starred at the blurry whiteness of the ceiling. Feeling a little more strength, he attempts to put at the tubes. Shouting follows as he grabs clumsily with his good hand at life giving wires binding him to this world. A wall of arms and hands grasp him, restraining him down. Yelling voices overhead, deafening his senses. There is a sharp pain as something scratches him.

_Nowaki._

That voice!

A calming voice.

_Hiro-san._

In the mists of his sedative haze, there is only one clear figure. A teary vision of Hiro-san stands beside his beside. Squawky sounds greet the man he loves. Warm tender hands brush through his dark locks; he is lost in a world of pain and bliss. Hiro-san shines like an angel. Closed his eyes wishing for the end.

_Nowaki._

Darkness again.

He wakes in darkened room. Turning slightly, he can see two lone figures curled up on chairs. He is confused to his visitors' identities. Located on the right of the bed, he hears the beeping of the machine. Inching his head over, he found himself staring up into dark brown eyes of a child. She was small, dainty and a perfect replica of a young Hiro-san. She stood beside his bed, sombre and quiet. Reaching up, she brushed warm fingers through his thick hair soothingly. Closing his eyes, he savoured the feeling. His delusions were conceivably real in nature. Large sad eyes, watched him as he gave back into the healing unconsciousness.

As his senses dulled he heard a distant sweet voice whisper. "I love you, Nowaki."

*****

Time slowly slips you by in a hospital,

Hours seem like Days

Days like Months

Months like Years.

In the blink of an eye, you can lose yourself to the deathly clock of the hospital hour.

*****

**To Be Continued …**


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: Somewhere In The Middle**

**Author:** **Darkestforever**

Couple: Junjou Terrorist/ Junjou Egoist

**Disclaimer**: All characters featured in this story are the creative property of the managaka who loving drew the Junjou universe. I would like to thank the amazing Musicians of the world who created the inspirational music that gave rise to this these stories

**Part Two: **

Death is not the greatest loss in life.

The greatest loss is what dies inside of while we live.

~ Norman Cousins ~

Screeching, shrill sirens stuttered the crisis chorus.

A stampede of white coats charged by.

Shinobu woke to fluster and furor of a resuscitation teams' warfare. Brisk and imperative commands were barked over the comatose figure. Blinking in the lustrous light, he witnessed the wraith-like doctors charged into battle. Nurses rapturously engaged in the recalcitrant rumba of life and death. Extricating himself from his lover's embrace, Shinobu slithered apprehensively from the relative's room to hover at the edge of the battleground.

Hoarse pants filled the room.

Candid calls for stats rang out.

Drone nurses scurried fetching peculiar tools and devices.

Vital life preserving potions were pumped into tubes.

Shocking vibrations bisected wires jackknifing the palsied form on the bed.

Tense minutes tarried.

Breath froze in his throat, as he stood enraptured by electronic screens. He felt his heart-wrench at the sight the pallid giant who lay emaciated at the mercy of medics. Death hovered closely, its glacial fingers brushing the living. In its grasp, it toyed with the notion of snatching this solicitous soul.

Ominous silence descended.

An infinitesimal blip peaked on a monitor.

Another tenacious tone bleeped.

Rapid rifling of orders where regimented.

In the frantic commotion, the chilling sounds of choking were heard. Stepping forward for a clearer view, Shinobu grimaced as he witnessed the ghastly removal of the endotracheal tubes that had forced breath into unwilling lungs.

Agony exploded with each puppeted motion of the prostrate body.

Pain-relieving drugs were administered intravenously.

Unwanted, life-giving nutrients were pumped into traitorous, greedy veins.

Pain-relieving drugs were assiduously administered intravenously.

Cobalt eyes twitched gingerly in the incandescence of consciousness.

Shinobu felt himself sigh in relief, as Kusama took his first hesitant breaths unaided from the ventilator. The mechanical lung was replaced with the plastic respirator mask. Expendable, surplus coils were striped back from the lethargic body. Caliginous blue orbs stared out in confused and uncertain up at the hovering blurry figures.

Elation animated the overwrought crew.

Kusama Nowaki appeared to be regaining conscious from his coma.

A dilapidated looking, Doctor Nadzuki braved a tired smile at Shinobu as she disengaged from the conquered battlefield. Dark circles were visible under her sparkly spectacles. She was frazzled from the ferocious fighting imperative for defending her colleague's life. Strong, dainty fingers rested reassuringly upon his shoulder.

"We will need a full series of tests to assess his condition, but I would say the prognosis is promising." She smiled encouragingly to him. "Talk with him. It is the best medicine I can prescribe for him. Hearing familiar voices will be comforting."

Soft gruff sounds escaped the dark-haired patient's lips.

"Now, Kusama-sensei, try not to talk yet. Your throat might be a little sore from the tube." The matron nurse hushed her patient, as she responded to his distress. "You will probably experience a little bit of discomfort with it for the next couple of days. The doctor has prescribed some pain medications to settle that."

Overhead a stolid voice transmitted urgent page.

"Gomen nasai," Doctor Nadzuki pardoned herself. "I am needed for consultation. If you have any questions or concerns, Doctor Ohayashi will be on ward-duty shortly. I will see you this evening, Miyagi-san."

"Arigatou, Nadzuki-sensei."

Like strange fancies of unreal, shadowy worlds the medical team evanesced away to other patients. The matron stayed briefly to revise her patient's chart. She cast a disconcerting eye over Shinobu's ruffled appearance and askew state of his clothing. Brushing his bangs behind his ears, he blushed with embarrassment. Shinobu tugged awkwardly at his shirt collar. While straightening his shirt, he heard raw whispers of sound uttered as they attempted to form a sentence.

"Ho- pong?"

Careful of the wires, he dragged the visitor's chair next to the bed-bound man. Miyagi snored loudly at that point from the relative's room across the corridor, as perfectly coordinated to remind his lover of his presence. Shinobu chuckled inwardly. He cast a loving glance towards his slumbering lover before returning his attention to Kusama. The blue-eyed man watched the exchange with a pained expression; he swallowed with a grunt of pain.

Reservedly, Shinobu answered. "It's been two months."

"Whe-y?"

"The doctor said not to strain yourself!" Shinobu responded quickly, reaching for a tissue to wipe away the trickle of drool that trickled from Kusama's mouth. "Rest. No doubt you have hundreds of questions. Now, I will tell you want I know if you like. Nod if you agree."

There was a restrained jerk of the head.

"Would a drink help?" Shinobu asked noticing the wince at the swallowing motion. "When the nurse comes back I will ask her for a straw, sipping water might help. My sister once had a sore throat and my hours letting her drink slowly."

"Back to why, you have been a coma." He explained softly. "There were complications with your injuries, they had to keep you sedated in order to treat your organ damage and monitor for possible anoxic brain injury. You sustained trauma to your liver and some kidney damage from the overdose. You broke some bones too. We have been told you are healing well. You might though experience some difficulties in the future. Supposed they can determine that now your conscious again."

The conversation continued like that. Shinobu talking softly to Kusama about the world, he had missed. Something had changed, others had not. Japan's long and laborious economic recession seemed to be ending. Wars continued. Disease and poverty still plagued the earth. The planet still faced disaster. People endured and lived the best they could. Births and deaths came and went. Time pressed on… change occurred… Fate continued her merry dance.

"Hi-ro…san?"

Reaching forward to take the wire strapped hand, he shook his head gently. Shinobu felt the immense wait of pity and sorrow touch his heart as he witnessed a broken man sob in fresh torment.

Squeezing hard the hand, he held. Shinobu captured those once beautiful blue eyes with his own piercing grey gaze. "Listen to me, listen. You aren't alone, do you hear me? Miyagi and I are here. We'll see you through this. I promise."

In the appropriate moment, the nurse appeared.

As Kusama grew agitated, she administered his dose of morphine.

Slumping in his bed, tears glistened on his face. Kusama looked devastated as he surrendered to the bliss of unconsciousness.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: Somewhere In The Middle**

**Author:** **Darkestforever**

**Couple: Junjou Terrorist/ Junjou Egoist**

**Disclaimer**: All characters featured in this story are the creative property of the managaka who loving drew the Junjou universe. I would like to thank the amazing Musicians of the world who created the inspirational music that spurred me on to write these emotional chapters.

**Author's note:** I had a request to write in Usami x Misaki waiting in my messages this week. Unfortunately, I have no plans for them to make a cameo appearance in any of the stories relating to 'In This Life' or 'Somewhere In the Middle'. There is a planned outline for a one-shot chapter, title examining what happened to their relationship after Hiroki's demise. I have written about half the story of "Both Sides of Now". I will post it for your reading pleasure once I am satisfied that I am representing Misaki in character (the blighter is a pain to write- far too happy go bloody lucky!)

**Part Three: Coffee and Cigarettes (Never Shout Never**)

Coffee should be black as Hell, strong as Death

And as sweet as Love.

~ Turkish Proverb ~

Ashy, viscous formula swirled in his coffee cup. In the charcoal coloured fluid, Miyagi studied his reflection. The telltale discoloration of bruising was forming around the contusion marring his cheek. Poking at the darkening blemish, he flexed his jaw testing aching muscle and tender flesh. Under this, fingertips the skin was sensitive and swollen. His right eye's vision blurred for a moment, irritating the pounding throb at his temples. Setting aside the cup, he massaged his smarting forehead brutishly to neutralize the pain.

Damn, the fricking moron had incredible aim for an invalid!

Grimacing, he reached for the packet of cigarettes on the table. Lifting one tobacco filled rods to his lips, he sunk back into the uncomfortable plastic chair. A flicker of flame lit the cigarette. Taking a deep breath his lungs filled with the poisonous smoke; the familiar relieving aroma of herby, burnt leaves tickled his taste buds. Puffing out a foggy breath, Miyagi closed his eyes and allowed the stillness of the moment to absolve him of the animosity raging in his bloodstream. The addictive rush of the Nicotine eased his body, banishing the furious force that aggravated his pulse.

Closing his eyes, his thoughts drifted to the events of that morning.

* * *

Life was a meaningless daze of ignominy, discomfort and routine for Kusama Nowaki. As consciousness slipped back into his body, slowly the petals of health had bloomed. It coincided with the spawning of odium in a mind on the verge of insanity. Former colleagues voiced pensive concern for the mental health of the bed-bound doctor. One doctor, a coffee-haired pediatrician called Tsumori, had stood beside Miyagi in the observation window voicing vociferous differences in the junior doctor. The man continued his monologue, astounded by the acerbity in his associate's appearance.

Miyagi listened tepidly to the comments on Kusama's personality change. The niceties of his character were alien to the dark-eyed professor. The dark-haired male considered him with a frosty countenance. Eight years of hostility had failed to endear Kamijou's lover to him. Absentmindly, he had loosened the suddenly tight feeling collar of his shirt, as the ghostly fingers of violence tickled his subconscious. His presence at cordial politeness towards Kusama, stemmed from his respect and adoration for his Assistant Professor.

"I barely recognize him." The amber-eyed pediatrician muttered.

Obsidian eyes observed the dark, wretched beast perched precariously on the edge of the bed like a caged animal. The reawakening of Kusama had stirred a deep pit of fury buried deep in his heart. Malicious madness danced in cold, lifeless eyes. Twice medical staff had revived Kusama from further suicide attempts. The crafty doctor had modified his medical charts to overdose himself with morphine. The psychologists determined the blue-eyed doctor was mentally dangerous and unstable.

Kusama was wary of the medical staff responsible for his miserable life. Frustrated, he became prone to unpredictable violent behaviour. The haggard hellion craved arbitration of his life. He desired the smoothing caress of death's final slumber.

Abhorrence for life gleamed in his feral stare.

Miyagi met that bestial gaze without trepidation.

He understood the torment that twisted and molested the mind.

Caged in pain and bedeviled by ghosts, Kusama abided in the passionate throws of purgatory. Lost in the throes of agony and anguish. Vulnerable to the songs of desperate grief, that whispered tempting calls from the abyss for this man. The voices enticed him toward the edge of lucidity and lunacy. He lustily suspired for the serenity of delirium. In the wastelands of his sanity, life was worthless. Resisting the resplendent simplicity of madness required a will to live; the alluring charms of the eidolic limbo would smother and consume a weak mind.

Kusama appeared to confide in Shinobu. The black-haired male trusted the young lawyer. In times of conscious awareness, he recanted his dreams to the grey-eyed man. Disturbing visions piqued his dreams. As the dying pink petal showers of spring were replaced with the early aria chorus of the cicadas' summer song, Shinobu grew perturbed with Kusama's neurosis. He existed in a paradisiacal place; a world fashioned only for two. His Hiro-san appeared sublimely seraphic, fulfilling every loving desire that he had craved from his lover in reality. The obscene details of those discussions, Shinobu harbored to himself. He expressed though his concern that in these delicious delusions, Kusama had superseded the flawed reality with a utopian partner, who beckoned him to surrender to the confines of his madness.

Watching a twitchy nurse approach Kusama from the observation window. Miyagi pondered the meaning of the little girl who featured in Kusama's lurid hallucinations. Close to midnight, during the previous evening, he overheard the pallid blue-eyed man confess in delirium of morphine about her. Dainty, petite with pleasing cinnamon coloured eyes. She crept amongst the shadows of his utopia. In moments, when he was eager to be seduced and succumb to death's coddle of his crazed chimera, her shrill protests had the cunning capacity to claw into his consciousness. Desperate demands rippled through psyche. Tearing him from the fold of his fictitious fancy.

"She cries," he hoarsely whispered. "She looks like Hiro-san from his childhood pictures."

Kusama flinched suddenly, as a nervous nurse touched him, breaking Miyagi's meditation. He snapped savagely towards her. Partially shackled by the bed restraints, he was no physical threat according to the psychologists. A cold tingle reverberated down Miyagi's spine; electrified tension simmered in the atmosphere. Kusama's anger was portrayed through hissing and spitting venomous words. He thundered at the incompetence of human beings. Wrestling against the suppressing hold of his reins, the hospital bed careened in the blustery tempest of Kusama's episode.

With almost inhuman strength, he snapped a wrist restrain during his storming.

Terrified, the nurse seized the panic alarm.

Fiendish hands appeared from all corners to subdue the snarling patient. Wild, raging eyes darted amongst the faces. Panic flickered in those cobalt eyes. Limbs fiercely dueled with the authority of the strident, subjugating hands. Scabrous screeching slipped from Kusama's lips as he shuffled with the orderlies and nurses wrestling to restrain him. Viciously, he clawed against the tide of manic faces hovering over him with his freed hand.

The curtains of the observation window were turbulently thrust closed before their eyes. Miyagi glanced towards the confounded face of the pediatrician. A disturbing din eluded from the next-door room. A rebarbative roar lamented from truculent tongue.

"HIRO-SAN!"

"What's happening?" Miyagi demanded, as male nurse retreated into the hallway clutching his bloody arm. "Why have the curtains been closed?"

"I am sorry," the nurse stuttered. "You will have to wait to speak to a doctor."

Impulsively, he battled his way through to the room where the catwarling could be heard. A platoon of ten orderlies and nurses were struggling to hold down the berserk episode of their charge. A nurse briefly broke free to admonish his presence. Pushing her side, he threw his weight into the fray. Blood spattered the sheets. Freely flowing from where the peripheral cannula had been ripped out. An orderly gritted his teeth scrabbling with demon to reattach the restraints holding their wild patient to the bed.

"H-I-R-O-S-A-N!" The demon howled.

"He's hallucinating." A nurse shouted over the howls, as she struggled to try a restraint around his ankle.

"Misaki-san hurry with that sedative!"

Screams of grief and torment yielded from the corpse.

Grabbing the demon's shoulders, Miyagi shoved it harshly into the mattress.

Nails scratched at his arms.

Froth foamed at the demon's lips.

Razor blade like teeth sunk into his left hand.

Grunting, he exerted more pressure to hold down the rampaging brute. An orderly clinched one strap around the beast's wrist.

Blue orbs focused for the first time on him.

Recognition gleamed from those electric orbs.

"YOU!"

It stood on weak wobbly legs.

Stumbling forward, the demon progressed towards its intended target.

"YOU!" It announced in a malevolent voice. "What have you done with my Hiro-san? You will give him back to me! You won't take him from me."

Miyagi struggled against the choking grip. He thrashed out with flailing limbs. Knocking back hard against Kusama. His fist collided with the younger man's face. Freeing himself, he threw himself into the urgent fray again trying to restraint the agitated monster. Kusama launched a fist wildly. The blow connected with his jaw. Gritting his teeth against the sting, he held onto the man.

"KUSAMA!" he bellowed, "Calm down you fucking lunatic! You are only going to hurt yourself!"

"HIRO-SAN!"

Inspired, Miyagi changed his tactics. Flipping the flailing man over to his stomach, he pinned Kusama with his thighs. Leaning in close, he spoke softly to the madman beneath him.

"Is this how Hiroki would want you live, Kusama? Demented by his memory?"

The body beneath him became still.

Sobs of pain escaped a bloody lip.

Relaxing his tense body, Miyagi was left consoling the distraught shell of a man. Strong arms enclosed the broken form. Warm, wet tears trickled down dampening his shirt. Kamijou's cried in his arms once. Long, lanky fingers with a fervently warm touch empathetically stroked the dark, untamed mane of the crestfallen soul. The healing warmth of that embrace emitted deep into the heart of the younger man. A soft, reassuring voice continued to whisper into the ear of the pacified demon. Astonished, the medical team observed the dark-haired doctor's deleterious streak crumbled under tender talk of the professor.

Lowering his lashes, Miyagi allowed his own grief to stir. A vision of sensei resonated in his heart. A new understanding of the plight of the patient in his embrace awoke within him. His life might have been inconveniently disrupted by this cadaverous corpse's attempts to die. But Miyagi could have expunged himself from the responsibility of caring for this man.

Yet almost three months on, he was still here.

A vision of his former self appeared in his mind.

At seventeen, had he been so different?

* * *

The cool prickle of an icepack surprised him from his distressing consternation. A twinkle of pink told him of the identity of his kind Samaritan.

"Doctor Nadzuki." He greeted the petite woman standing beside him.

"I believe you are a hero on my ward, Miyagi-sensei."

"Huh? Why the devil would you think that?" He asked taking another puff from his wasting cigarette.

"Twitter of little birdies." She responded slipping into a plastic seat opposite him, placing a medical chart on the table before her. "I have a matter to discuss with you, Miyagi-sensei."

Snubbing out his dying cigarette, Miyagi leant forward on the table with his elbows, poised to hear out this quirky doctor. The conversation began lightly. Topics reflected on his heroism of the morning and his natural ability to handle difficult people. Compliments were stacked high in his favor. From the doctor's posture, he could determine she held him in good esteem and respect. Sweeping a look over her profile, he noted the attractiveness of her compassionate violet eyes and kind composure. To most men, this would be the warm-up to solicit an invitation. However, experiences of his ex-wife alerted him to the underhanded tricks of the female sex.

"Doctor Nadzuki, while I'm flattered," Miyagi sighed, into his cooling coffee. "You don't have to stoke my ego. What is it you want?"

"Very well, the point I wish to rise is…" Nadzuki's sentence was interrupted by the irritating timbre of an unwelcome pediatrician.

"Nadzuki-sensei, I'm surprised to see you in the canteen." Tsumori announced loudly with an odd aura of good-humor.

"Why is that, sensei?" She responded with a forced smile.

"I observed the session this morning with Kusama-sensei, he was like a feral beast in those restraints." The pediatrician recalled to his audience. "The Psychologist informed me that Kusama's deteriorating in psychosis. Yet, you haven't sought out specialized unit for continuing his treatment according to him."

"Pain can create incredible absurdities in the mind, Doctor Tsumori." Doctor Nadzuki replied defensively, brandishing her medical charts like a shield.

"I concur on that matter, sensei." The coffee-haired doctored agreed with a recreant glimmer in his eyes. "I mentioned to the psychologist that necessary precautions might be required in the near future, for Kusama's sake. As his friend, I want only the best for his health."

Sharp violet eyes studied the other doctor, behind the rim of ridiculous sparkly pink spectacles. "I believe sensei, your shift is due to commence shortly. Might I advise you leave to tend to your own patient's needs?"

The coffee-haired doctor bowed stiffly before departing.

"What a creep!"

Miyagi was surprised by the snide quip uttered from the petite woman.

"He's an interesting piece of work." Miyagi agreed slipping his revolting ashen coffee.

"He's a viper!" She responded frostily. "Miyagi-sensei, I advise you to limit any contact that man has with my patient. Be vigilant. I'm concerned about the intentions of that man."

"Oh?"

"In the last few years, the nurses in pediatricians have noted that Kusama-sensei avoided socializing with Tsumori-sensei." Doctor Nadzuki admitted. "Apparently, he ventured to seduce Kusama. However, his gains in the ended were a bloody nose."

Miyagi chuckled. "I can imagine Kusama responding like that."

"Doctor, I doubt anything I have to say will discourage people from visiting Kusama."

"Miyagi-sensei, that is the very matter I want to discuss with you." The Doctor murmured softly, her violet gaze turning towards the entrance where his own young lover had appeared. "Kusama is going to need someone to protect him. There are no family records; save a foster family from when Kusama was nine. In his current condition, his guardianship will be awarded to someone. I believe, Professor, you might understand this man's pain more than anyone else. You might be the only hope of saving himself from his demon."

The Doctor dismissed herself with a wave, leaving him blinking in her wake. Guardian to Kusama? Kamijou was probably laughing in his family grave. Closing his eyes, Miyagi considered the complications of entertaining the doctor's suggestion. Weighing up the serious implications for his and Shinobu's lives, reputations and their own cumbersome secret.

God dammit, he thought to himself.

He definitely needed another cigarette.

"You know I dislike it when you smoke those deathtraps."

Opening one onyx eye, Miyagi peaked up at form of his lover. Sober granite orbs regarded him with displeasure.

"Shinobu-chin, if you had endured the morning I have, cigarettes and coffee would be on your list of comforts." He greeted the younger man.

"Hmph." The sandy-haired lawyer snorted. "Not a chance in hell. Now hand it over!"

Scowling, the bereted professor pushed forward the packet to his lover. Slurping a mouthful of coffee, he allowed the bitter, acidic flavours drench his tongue as he swallowed the pungent liquid.

"Shinobu, we have to talk about something."

"We are not renegotiating on your agreement to quit smoking, Miyagi." Shinobu responded, adding milk to his own coffee. "Your choice was either me or the cigarettes. You are bloody lucky. I'm turning my cheek the other way to this slip up."

"This doesn't concern my bad habits, Shinobu-chin." He answered, watching his lover take tentative slurps of his hot beverage.

"Humph." Shinobu snorted.

"However, I do believe you enjoy some of my better bad habits in bed, Shinobu." He whispered devilishly, as his younger love spluttered his mouth full of coffee.

Nervously, the young lawyer glanced watchful eye over the near empty canteen. This was their cumbersome secret. For almost a decade, they had disguised their relationship. Dressing it up to the world in brotherly attire to shield both their positions and family from the scorn and stigma of their love.

Grey-eyes soberly returned to his face. "Why are you sporting a black eye?"

"Kusama."

"What happened?" Shinobu anxiously asked. "Are you alright? Is he?"

"Shinobu, let's take a drive." He suggested finishing the last mouthful of his coffee.

"Miyagi, I 'm on my lunch break." The young lawyer responded quirking an eyebrow at his older lover. "I have sit in at court this afternoon."

"Can it be rescheduled?" Miyagi asked rising from his seat.

"Not unless something drastic happens."

"Doctor Nadzuki wants to commission the courts to appoint a guardian for Kusama." Miyagi explained, rummaging in his pocket for his car keys. "He has no traceable relatives, save for an elderly pair of foster partners. Kamijou had been whole world and his family too. I think the Doctor was trying to indicated she would like us to consider petitioning with her for his custody."

Grey eyes studied the older man for a moment. "What's the issue then?" We'll take him with us."

Dark, onyx eyes married those steely orbs. "Shinobu-chin, the issue isn't taking in Kusama. It is the implications for us."

The young lawyer paled. "I'll call the office in the car."

_**To be continued…**_

* * *

_**I hope to have the next chapter up in the next few days. I claim all mistakes as my own; I have tried to proof-read, this chapter to the best of my ability. I am still a little distracted with the mounts of boxes in my new home, but I won't take any offense if people point out errors.**_

_**For faithful readers, I have sad news – only three chapters left before 'Somewhere in the Middle" concludes with a huge cliff-hanger to launch my other stand-alone story set in this universe, I have planned for Miyagi and Shinobu in their own story "All Those Yesterdays". I will be working on finishing my other current works before releasing this story. Working on three stories has proven draining - especially as 'In This Life' requires so much emotional tweaks. I struggle to write sometimes for days after crafting chapters for Hiroko's story.**_


	4. Chapter 4

**Title: Somewhere In The Middle**

**Author:** **Darkestforever**

**Couple: Junjou Terrorist/ Junjou Egoist**

**Disclaimer**: All characters featured in this story are the creative property of the managaka who loving drew the Junjou universe. I would like to thank the amazing Musicians of the world who created the inspirational music that spurred me on to write these emotional chapters.

Author's Note: I would like to thank all my readers who are enjoying my stories. For reading 'Somewhere in the Middle', I would like to say thank you to: snowsparklegems, Zurensy, Danhk, Reficular, Maggie Mae, Junjou Vampire, AsumaKun, Annadiel, Kate1234567lol and of course X!

I hope this chapter intrigues you to reader further. I apologise for another filler chapter but the impending chapters need a sturdy foundation for the weigh of the drama to come.

**Part Four: Us Against The World (Secret Garden)**

Only when we give joyfully, without hesitation or the thought of gain,

Can we truly know what love means.

~ Leo Buscaglia~

"I want you to take responsibility" were the founding words of their relationship.

Tapping along to the radio, as they sat in traffic, Miyagi found himself reflecting on their fledging days.

Eight years ago, he foolishly attempted to dissuade himself of loving the younger man. Quoting endless excuses as a shield to protect his defective heart. He was a high school student, a man, his ex-wife's brother and his employer's only, beloved son; yet all these warnings fell by the wayside, as his heart stirred. While lost in a lingering love for a ghost, he never anticipated that his little terrorist's infatuation would ignite a spark that devoured his own sterile heart. Shinobu's unconditional and passionate love had reinvigorated his world.

He still quibbled with the little terrorist's declarations of Fate.

Destiny was a pretty shitty concept in his eyes.

The thought that a cosmic plan had purposely contrived a design to cause torment and anguish in life angered him. Hunched over the steering wheel, he snorted in disgust dwelling on the idea that Fate had any power in his choices. Their choices could have orchestrated a very different outcome for them both. Destiny had no hand in him choosing to love his Sensei or the fact his ex-wife could not invoke the same emotions that Shinobu could.

Pure chance had conceived the conditions for their relationship to spawn. Under different circumstances, if he had chosen to work at his marriage, ex-wife could have been sitting next to him in this vehicle. He shuddered as a cool tingle shot down his back.

A cursed choice, Miyagi thought stretching his stiffening muscles. Thank goodness for commonsense.

Under dark bangs, he watched his lover's profile as he spoke on the phone. The young lawyer was on his third call. Efficiently, he had conversed with another junior colleague to organise cover for his court session. The court was briefed of the change in representation. Now, the final exchange was to inform the senior legal representative of the case about the urgent change. Fortunately, it was a minor misdemeanor case that was likely to be dismissed due to the age of the accused.

"Moshi-moshi. Is Daiwa-sensei available?"

The monotonous sound of hold music jangled from the handset. The car filled with the corporate cacophony. With a snort of disgust, Shinobu rolled his eyes impatiently at the delay. Holding the mobile device away from his ear, the young lawyer scowled tigerishly at the gadget that dared to emit the dissonant sound.

Miyagi chuckled at unimpressed expression on the lawyer's face.

"What?" Shinobu growled at him. "What's so funny, old man?"

"Kawaii." He smiled pointing back at his stormy eyed lover.

"I'm not!" The young lawyer glowered indignantly.

"You are unbearably cute, Shinobu-chin." Miyagi whispered, leaning over so his breath tickled his lover's ear as he spoke

"Baka." Shinobu muttered to himself, feeling his cheeks burn.

Strong fingers gently gripped the younger man's chin. Grey eyes widened at the dawning of the older man's intention. Shinobu's breath hitched as their lips stood inches apart. A teasing light glinted in Miyagi's onyx orbs.

"Shinobu…"

A voice squawked up from the handset.

Both men sat frozen, staring at each other like children with their hands caught in the cookie jar. Shinobu coughed, clearing his dry throat to collect his composure to greet his employer. With a sigh of defeat, the dark-haired professor slumped back into his seat. His chance to steal a kiss quashed. The moment lost to a deep miter of his lover's employer.

Denied by the boss, Miyagi sighed himself.

Leaning back in his seat, he pondered, the time necessary for them to clear the road works that lay ahead. Should he take another route? The car had in-built satellite navigation. He rarely had the excuse to use the system. Maybe, it could plan a more effective route home.

A mellifluous caress brushed against his cheek.

Out the corner of his dark eyes, Miyagi witnessed his lover hastily retreat to the passenger seat. The fuchsia flush of embarrassment stained his lover's cheeks. Blushing vermillion red, Shinobu swiftly collected a notepad and pen to scribble down dictated notes.

"Gomennasai, Daiwa-sensei." Shinobu stuttered, fighting down the flame in his cheeks. "I needed to grab a pen from my briefcase, could you repeat that for me?"

Shaking his head, Miyagi focused back on the unmoving traffic. A broad smile adorned his face at his lover's innocent reaction. Amused that eight years on, his bashful lover could glow scarlet in mortification up to his ears.

Blurring horns of the traffic eroded on his thoughts. Inching forward a few extra millimeters, the traffic continued to clamber forward at a snail's pace. Twiddling with the dials, he adjusted the car's air-conditioning as the heat of the early summer afternoon rose. The car was becoming an oven. Perspiration rolled down the back of his neck. Tugging at his tie and opening his shirt collar, Miyagi cursed the traffic. Half listening to his lover's conversation, his thoughts wandered listlessly for the rest of the journey to their apartment in the Minato district.

Five years ago, he had purchased this property. The distance to work was the compromise for the space this older apartment possessed. The love appeal of the property came from the large floor plan and additional rooms just for his books. Miyagi believed his elderly grandfather would have approved of him using his inheritance to invest in the property. Perhaps not living with a man, but definitely utilizing the money to purchase security.

He had bought this apartment as a promise for Shinobu.

A place that was just theirs.

Safe from the condemnation of others.

They had crafted a home here.

The place they greeted every morning locked in each other's embrace.

The fresh start they had needed.

Unloading the last box from the rental van had been the happiest moment of his life. Shinobu slept on the sofa as he entered their new home. Setting down the last box, Miyagi scanned about for the kitchen supplies. He would cook dinner. Soba noodles were the traditional first meal in a new home. It would be nice to share that tradition with Shinobu. Scratching his head, Miyagi wondered where he had stacked the mystery box. Somewhere in the chaos of their moving boxes was hidden a packet of the soba noodles.

The intercom chirped to life in the middle of his hunt.

With a defeated sigh, he surrendered.

Opening the door, he was greeted by the sight of his new associate professor. Hanaori Roora was a tall half British, half Japanese woman with long auburn hair and pretty emerald eyes. Half of the single male staff of M University where besotted with this woman. Daily declarations of love had flooded their office for the last month. Until, Hanaori's harpy side egressed. She was a competent replacement for Kamijou; her doctorate work had focused Bashou making here a vital resource for his own research.

Impressively, she had charmed Shinobu in seconds.

The little terrorist had blustered into the office the day of her interview. Squawking on about the dramatics of second year students. His lover was a romantic amongst wolves at college. His terrorist verbalized his frustrations at his friend's taste for one-night stands. Bitter at the offhanded jibs of mindless buffoons whose imprudent scruples were less than honorable. The younger man continued to rage on about the filthy behaviour of his counterparts.

Shinobu stood still in his tracks as he noticed Miyagi's companion.

Surprise flared in his grey eyes.

His potential colleague and lover turned to him with curious and raging looks.

"Who's that old man?" Shinobu thundered.

"Professor, is this boy…" Hanaori had begun.

His head throbbed threateningly as he introduced the pair.

Shinobu's glaring daggers failed to unsettle the sturdy scholar.

She suspiciously watched his lover.

"Hanaori-sensei, please meet the Dean's son, Takatsuki Shinobu." Miyagi said carefully, trying to logically explain Shinobu's present without raising alarm bells. "You will see him in the office from time to time; he is studying literature with me privately."

"I see, Professor Miyagi." The young woman answered flatly. "How old are you, Takatsuki-san?"

"Twenty."

"And how long have you two been sleeping together?"

The silence thronged the roomwith taciturnity.

The grey-eyed terrorist stared speechless at the disapproving woman, sitting opposite him. Miyagi fumbled for a cigarette as the stress clinched his stomach with a sickly grip. Hanaori sat reservedly in unabashed reticence, as both men composed themselves.

Shinobu found his words first.

"Tha-t's no-ne of your bus-ine-ss." He answered shakily.

Glancing to him, Hanaori sternly repeated her question.

"Three years," he answered honestly, releasing three years of tension in a puff of smoke. "Shinobu has been my lover for three years since May."

"I'm assuming by your reaction you're both still in the closet?" She asked with flat-pan seriousness.

"Why is that important?" Shinobu asked.

"It's not. But, I'm going to be working closely with Miyagi-sensei." She retorted. "Because of that, I need to know boundaries."

"How did you know?"

"Psychic," she whispered with a wink.

Miyagi was astonished by the surreal conversation, taking place in his office. In the six months after Kamijou's death, Hanaori was pleasant blast of fresh air. The healing of the literature department began in earnest with her presence. She was considerate and insightful; beneath her serious facade she harbored a playful streak that poured laughter out from all corners the literature office. Miyagi found himself pranked a few times by his new associate in their first semester. The students adored their gorgeous professor; by the fall term their admission rates for second year studies rose by nearly seventy-five percent.

Hanaori kept her word like Cerberus guarded Hades.

She had sworn never to disclose their secret relationship.

Fear dogged their footsteps for the first few years of their relationship; trusting others had been difficult. Kamijou's loyalty was bestowed with friendship and in return that Miyagi knew his darkest secrets. The threat of discovery always loomed. It held the power to destroy everything he had worked for in his career. University took the disapproving eyes of the law away as Shinobu was legally of age. However, the ominous peril continued to lay in wait from Shinobu's family.

Miyagi made tea for his guest.

Shinobu continued to sleep through the visit of their first guest.

Hanaori had draped a blanket over his young lover. Mothering over sleeping the third year student. She tucked stroked his soft sandy hair a few times. Before sitting back in the chair opposite his young terrorist.

"Your mothering instinct is showing," he teased his co-worker.

"Slips out from time to time," she whispered taking the mug of tea from him. "He looks exhausted."

"The last few weeks have been… difficult."

"The Dean hasn't been back to work yet," Hanaori murmured softly. "They say the attack was quite serious. Have his family contacted you at all?"

"Hanaori, I'm telling you this as I trust you." His voice a little strained with emotion. "They haven't even tried to contact him. From the sick letter he received two weeks ago, I think they plan to disinherit him."

Green eyes swelled with tears. "He's lucky he has you, Miyagi."

"I caused this."

"Don't say that!" She hissed. "Don't cheapen the sacrifice that he's made to love you."

A blow to the back of his head dragged him from his thoughts.

Annoyed blurring horns tooted out their irritation at being held up.

The traffic ahead was moving steadily.

Another ten minutes saw them pulling into the street level parking space assigned to their apartment. He turned off the ignition with a sense of peace. He glanced to his lover. Misty grey eyes smiled back at him. Miyagi knew he would never trade the last four years of loving his terrorist.

How wonderfully his lover had matured as an adult.

The adult mode of his terrorist outwardly appeared disciplined and mature. In university, he had perfected the smart, cool and calm facade of an adult, necessary for the practice of law. Sophisticated, charming and tantalizingly handsome in a suit, it was hard to fathom appearances were indeed deceptive. Underneath the polished suit, lurked the blunt, unreasonable and selfish brat whose head was filled of soft thoughts of Miyagi. Despite the sacrifices, his stubborn lover clung through the turbulent storm with him. For that, Miyagi was grateful.

He had inherently worried if this choice had been the right decision. Guilt weighed heavily on his shoulder occasionally. He witnessed his lover sacrifice so much to be with him.

"Shinobu," he said grasping the lawyer's hand. "I love you."

Grey eyes softened. "Baka. I knew that. I love you too."

His hand strayed to the blond locks of his lover. Pulling Shinobu over the gearbox, he kissed the young lawyer deeply. Pouring affirmation into their kisses.

"Whatever the future brings for us, I won't let go." Miyagi vowed, brushing his lips over his lover's in promise. "It's us against the world."

**To be continued…**


	5. Chapter 5

**Title:** **Somewhere In The Middle**

**By DarkestForever**

**Rating:** T (at most)

**Genre**: romance/drama/ character death/rebirth/yaoi

**Disclaimer:** All characters and rights of the Junjou Romantica world belong to Shungiku Nakamura and her publishers and anime distributors. This fanfiction is written with no intention of earning any royalties or money. It is for the sole purpose of free enjoyment for the Junjou Romantica fangirls and boys.

**Author's Note:** Apologies for the delay. I hope this hasn't put you off continuing to read Somewhere in the Middle. This chapter was incredibly difficult to write; I actually had to do several re-writes. I decided less was more in this case, opting to continue the plot in an additional chapter. Again, apologies that the proof-reading is basic. As always, reviews are greatly appreciated.

**Part Five: Everything I Do, I Do It For You (Bryan Adams)**

Love is shown in your deeds,

Not in your words.

~ Fr. Jerome Cummings ~

The keys sharply clattered into the stoneware dish.

Divesting himself of his coat, he settled into his habitual homecoming routine. The simple acts of stowing his shoes, donning his slippers, checking their messages, passing through the entrance hall into the heart of their abode. Comforting, commonplace rituals that signaled he was home.

Neatly, he tucked away his shoes. Noting a scuffmark on the expensive Italian leather, he mentally made a note to ensure he polished them before the morning. Hanging up his coat, Shinobu collect his briefcase and started towards the living room. Dazzling sunlight blinded him momentarily; shielding his eyes, he reached out to draw the curtains across the large, lofty windows that streamed light into the room.

Sighing, he dropped his briefcase. Rolling up his sleeves, Shinobu surveyed his domain, building a mental list in his head. Breakfast dishes littered the counters. Piles of books stood sentry at the foot of the sofa. Dust innocently fluttered and flittered suspended in a stray sunbeam. Memorized by the merry dust dance, Shinobu closed his eyes; a deep relieved sigh escaped his lips.

The welcoming scent of home washed over his senses.

This place that always smelt of coffee, old musky books and the enduring emanation of his lover. Their sanctuary from the harsh reality of the outside world.

Behind him the door clicked shut.

The aroma of his lover's savory, sapid aftershave mixed with the unwelcome odoriferous perfume of smoke greeted him. A thud on the side table told him, the professor had raided their mailbox before ascending the stairs. A second set of keys clinked into the bowl. Shuffling, followed by the disrespectfully clonk of Miyagi casting aside his shoes. The reassuring sounds of his lover's arrival home.

The inner door creaked.

Strong, secure arms came up behind him, toppling him back into the firm chest of the older man. For a man in his early forties, Miyagi possessed fantastic physical physique. Under the pure cotton striped shirt, Shinobu could feel the impressive rise and fall of the muscular chest.

The professor was a votary veteran of his field of Literature. Often neglecting his body in favor of his work or reading. He was a dilettante attendee towards physical exercise. The only exercise he could claim was occasional strolls to the bookstore, playing one game of squash with a college friend on Tuesdays and begrudgingly attending the swimming pool in the heat of the summer. He had never openly complained about his lover's figurer. He had criticized his unhealthy lifestyle, but never verbally chastised the professor on his lack of exercise. Though, Shinobu had started to reduce the fat and sugar content of their food as a preventive measure, noticing the curvature his lover's stomach.

Before his fortieth birthday, his lover had hatefully admired the slightly sloppy muscles of his abdomen. Poking at the plumpish podge, Miyagi had pertinaciously pledged to reform himself.

Attend the gym three times a week.

Jogging for thirty minutes every morning.

Weight training in the evenings while reading.

Shinobu appreciated the spruced up thewy transformation. Powerful attraction had stirred within his core as the strapping sinew began to dress his lover's chest and limbs. The exercise regime had improved other expects of their relationship, as Miyagi's sensual stamina magnified. Wandering eyes of strangers and students alike snatched apprising glimpses of the virile educator. Jealousy boiled in his blood at the temerity of those trespasses on his lover. Miyagi laughed at his jealous streak. His lover charmed him out of his thunderclouds with seductive sibilations.

Feeling the warmth seep through his suit, Shinobu sighed in ecstasy.

Leaning forward, Miyagi's breath tickled his ear.

Ghostly kisses caressed his ear, as his lover spoke. "I'll make the coffee, you relax."

"Miy…"

"No, Shinobu." The professor growled against his ear. "Let me do this."

Turning his lover's arms, granite orbs observed his lover's stern, staid expression. A light smile twitched at his lips. In the depths of the professor's stygian sooty eyes, worry peeked. Shinobu shook his head. His over-protective lover still tormented himself with the memories of that unpleasant predicament. The events that occurrence, three years ago, had imprinted deeply on his partner. Miyagi's gallant rendition of a knight-in-shining armor had astounded him. Selflessly, the dark hair professor had moved heaven and earth to protect him after the incident with his family. He had given him a home, love and life.

"Thank you, Miyagi." Shinobu whispered stealing a brief kiss, before releasing his lover. "Is it forbidden for me to retrieve some paperwork from my office?"

"Does it relate to the process of applying for guardianship?"

"Yes."

"Then go ahead." The professor said, playfully ruffled his lover's blond bangs. "I'll get the coffee on the go in the meantime."

Slipping from the living room, Shinobu stowed his briefcase in his modest home office. Loosening his tie, he returned to heart of their home and slumped into the oversized cushions of their sofa. He watched his lover potter around the kitchen fixing the coffee. How homely this vision was. Three years ago, he could not have envisioned a happy ending for him.

For a year, he had dreaded further revengeful retribution.

The penalties prorated onto him were diminutive damage in his eyes.

He had not intended to dehisce his secret.

The truth was, he sadistically savored the sweet secret nature of his relationship. He rapaciously revered their little world. It was a place no one else knew. Here, he shared secret sanctity with his lover. Alone, cloistered away from the chaotic climes of corporeality, they were unhindered by societies' scorn. Here in this simple place, they could be their real selves.

He was the first since sensei to know the real Miyagi.

Outwardly, his professor provided an ostentatious profile of himself to his colleagues and few associates. Pretentiously feigning all indifference to the complex labyrinth of human emotion. His only precious penchant concentrated upon his laud literature.

Those who accepted this dimension of Miyagi Yoh were blinded. They failed to see past his impregnable, supercilious self and his buffoonish buffer to the real man. The real man was tenuous, tender and endowed with an incredible ability to love. Abrogated by the adipose weight of grief, the young teenage Miyagi had been irrevocably inhibited from his feelings by his guilt. Guilt that had relentlessly clung to his conscious, haunting him hellishly until a young grey-eyed terrorist electrifyingly exploded into his life.

He was now inescapably infected by Shinobu's love.

The dark-hair professor shared in the same mephitic magic of waking every morning in their cherished companionship. In the brief snuff of time that a human life is composed of, they had fortunately discovered the rare, but true 'happily ever after' type of love. He possessed the holy grail of every lonely, lost heart. Love that poets passionately praised and angels exalted in exquisite euology. The love that is patient and kind, that always protects, trusts, hopes and perseveres through life's darkest trials.

Their love was their own sweet secret.

Or so, Shinobu naively thought.

The Takatsuki family had anxiously observed their son's disquieting disinterest in the female sex. It was an embarrassing secret, almost as dishonoring as the continual flightiness of their daughter's dalliances with various men, both married and unmarried. Three years of college, not a single girlfriend mentioned or introduced. They could accept the claims that he was a student determined to establish a good career and build the means to support himself. Honorable intentions, which his parents took pride in.

The excuses had restrained their direct interference until now; but twitchy tongues were provoking the need for action. The need for the Takatsuki heir to honor his duties was growing urgently important. It was his family's expectation for him to develop an interest in the right sort of woman. While they hoped a suitable young woman might tempt Shinobu's fancy in a natural way, urgent intervention was necessary. Preparations were underway for a grand family occasion. The disguise of a family party, the event was planned to illustrate the variety of eligible young women open to the young Takatsuki heir.

The conspicuous celebration was for his mother's fifth birthday.

Exalted and eminent guests had travelled to share in this prodigious party.

Takatsuki Saika was the pictorial definition of everything a regal ornamental wife ought to be. She sat elegantly poised in her luxurious silk kimono of lilac blue, embroidering of delicate sakura blossoms decorated the ravish garment. Every guest greeted the leading-lady with impeccable manners, bestowing their celebratory birthday-wishes to his mother. With genteel grace, the golden haired goddess thanked all her guests. Lustrous silver eyes spurious surveyed the party. A small recherché smile dressed his mother's ruby painted lips with quasi-jocose joy. From his cornered position across the room, Shinobu gleamed counterfeit countenance about his mother.

Two pairs of granite eyes married across the room.

A flash of amyctic anguish transmitted his dame's gaze.

Excusing himself form his father's pabulum peers, he attempted to seek out his mother. Halfway across the room, the catering staff made the dinner announcement. A fleeting glance of warning came to him from his mother. The diplomat from an obscure foreign nation was on-hand to escort her into the dinner hall.

"Shinobu, where are you hiding yourself?" An annoying voice summoned him.

Groaning, he turned to face the approach of his sister. Glued like a barnacle to his sister, her vagabond boyfriend trailed in tow. The sycophant salamander was sordid sponger, who had worryingly wormed into his sister's affections. Nagai-san operated a suave scam. Unctuously, he was a pervading parasite that had mooched his way into the Takatsuki family. The fulsome fellow charmed his sire's surrender and support with a bootlicking strategy that sanctioned his welcome.

Inwardly, he detested this sponger.

Risako glided up to him in preposterously prurient gown. Slits transversed the brief material of the short skirt. Licentious looks were earned from some of the lewd gentlemen guests by the raunchy attire. Shinobu found himself itching to whip off his suit jacket and clothe the immodest dress. His sister looked like a salacious strumpet in the ribald red dress.

"Father sent us to search for you!" Risako annoyingly tittered, as she reached him. "Miss Kujou has no escort for dinner, Shinobu. Perhaps, you would like to invite her?"

He shot Risako an evil look.

"Don't be shy tiger!" The Sponger smirked.

Shoving the heel of her palm into his back, Risako pushed him forward.

Extending his arm, he graciously solicited the hand of his offered sacrifice. Firm fingers pinched his bottom as they turned. The girl uncouthly snickered. Gritting his teeth, Shinobu prepare himself for a grueling evening.

Sitting at his family's opulent dinner table, Shinobu could see the underhanded motives dressing the lavish table. He sat awkwardly rigid amongst the dolorous company. Beside him, catering to his every whim was the delicate daughter of one of his father's affluent connections. Strands of irritation hummed in his bloodstream. The flirty attentions of his dinner partner made him feel uncomfortable; especially when her straying hands grossly assaulted him under the table.

At the end of the grand table, he noted his father and his business cronies gleaned with cachinnated self-congratulation. His father had been most punctilious in his preparations for this event. The old man had galvanized every effort to utilize this event to his advantages. Advertisement. Promotion. Marriage.

As deviant digits wandered, his father rose from his seat, chinking his wine class with the silver stem of his dessertspoon. A silence descended over the gathered thirty guests.

"Dear friends, I wish to propose a special birthday toast to my wife, Saika. " The Dean announced to their gathered guests. "For thirty-one years, I have been the honored husband of Japan's most beautiful woman. This remarkable woman has given me immense joy, fulfilled my every expectation and bestowed to me the most incredible love a man could crave. I hope we will share another thirty year of good fortune, blessed with the weddings of our children and the darling grandchildren you crave. Everyone lift your glasses. To Saika, the most beautiful woman in Japan!"

"To Saika, the most beautiful woman in Japan!" The guest mimicked.

His father then bent brushing a tender kiss to his mother's cheek.

"Shinobu, I hope we can be as ha-pp-y as them." His sister drunkenly stuttered in his left ear. "I'm not a docile as mother that's why I cheat. I get bored without affection."

"Risako, this isn't really…" He began to reply sensing his sibling's wassailing tongue.

"Miy-agi was a go-od m-an; steady, stable and sound. Fuck-ing aw-ful in bed." Risako continued merrily. "Wh-at you li-ke?"

"Definitely impropriate conversation, Risako." He growled.

"Pha! They can't he-ar our sib-ling muttering." She dismissed with a wave. "Oi! Old man, I'm try-ing to ha-ve a pri-vate con-ser-… a ch-at with my bro-ther. Do you mi-nd not ea-ves…dropp…ing?"

Affronted, the man glared in displeasure.

Several other guests observed the shameless spectacle.

"Look, bo-zo." Risako said sloshing her wine in her glass. "My brother has the ri-ght to scr-ew who he ple-ases. The-re ple-nty of men in th-eir thir-ties un-married. Ju-st cause th-ere were rum-ors at his hi-gh sch-ool ab-out a stupid older man… do-esn't make him a puff!"

"You're gay!" His dinner companion shrieked.

The postprandial dinner table cordial conversation ceased.

His spoon clattered into the porcelain bowl.

Murmurs muttered around the table.

A startled cry escaped his mother.

At the far end of the table, his father furiously rose to his feet.

"My apologies friends," the Dean agilely apologized. "I believe it is an appropriate time to end the evenings festivities."

Sickly swirling sensations caracoled in his stomach.

His throat choked on the desiccant dryness.

A horrid screaming white world swirled around him.

Wild and crazy.

Then the tortious tormenting began.

Broken.

Dirty.

Tainted.

Disguising.

Vile.

Abomination.

Each word resonated deeply within his heart. Piercing powerfully into the core of his being. Harsh abusive lyrics slipped from his father's loathsome tongue. He scrunched his eyes tightly closed trying to block out the vulgar vernacularism of his father's revulsion. Stressful shakes quivered across his body. His gut cramped in agony at the verbal onslaught.

"Repulsive, disgraceful brat! Have you no consideration for the honor of this family?" The Dean disgorged as a violent stream of reproach; poison puncturing every syllable his lips uttered.

"Sir, that's not…"

"You are an abhorrent eye-sore!" His sire condemned. "How dare you come into my house with your warped, dishonorable viperous filth! You infect this household with the pestilence of depravity."

In the lurid fawn eyes of his father, Shinobu saw a demon's reflection. The straw-blond student was a repulsive, tainted inhuman monster to this overbearing piteous persecutor. Each miasmatic word, aplomb with the festering malediction of his father's malice, mined deeper into his confidence. He stuttered a few futile lines of defense to the accurate accusation thrown at his feet. Watching his father, he knew there would be no opportunity to coeval himself in his father's achromatic eyes.

"Well?" The Dean bit.

He choked on the venin of his father's words. "I….I."

"You're not a fag, right Shinobu?" Turning, he met the algid eyes of his sister's sponger. "Otouto-kun is just confused, I bet one of those Aussie-bastards did something weird to your brain."

A shaky Risako stood soothing their mother. She averted her eyes to the floor. The sting of shame flushed her slapped cheek. Steaming coffee sat beside her on the counter, a measure to sober her up.

Whimpers of distress escaped from their dame.

"You listen here, boy. You will attend the Miai tomorrow to redeem yourself." His father brusquely growled. "If you refuse, you will be cast out of this family. Am I understood?"

Gritting his teeth, he bridled his tongue.

Granite eyes stared riveted on the bully figure of his father. Icy hatred burned in his silver orbs. A loud piercing cry escaped from the lips of the distraught woman in the corner. Glancing to his inconsolable mother, Shinobu felt tormented by the contrition of her distress. He almost keeled to weight of his sire's rollicking reproof, only the grief-stricken gaze of the woman who gifted him with his granite orbs steeled his soul.

Bowing his head, salty bitter tears fell from his eyes. "Moushiwake arimasen mother."

Spinning in his slippers, he fled.

The kitchen door slammed as he bolted.

The expensive suit was drenched instantly.

He stopped about half a mile from his childhood home. Sobbing, he collapsed against a wall of the empty street. Silent tears of humiliation caroused his face. Desperate wails escaped his lips, lost to the torrents of rain pouring overhead.

Chill settled in his bones.

The lashing rain eased laggardly.

Distant cinereal clouds shimmered with the dawn's early morning light.

Kicking off his spoilt slippers, he began the long walk home.

Opening the door of the apartment, he silently trudged in.

A fresh sob escaped his lips.

The world alarmingly wobbled.

Then he knew only darkness.

He woke cocooned in calescent comfort.

The thick delish aroma of the fresh coffee drifted through the apartment. His nose wrinkled at the spicy, scrumptious scent of his favourite brew. A slender sliver of light beckoned him from the bed towards the slight ajar door. He was greeted by inviting view. Lying back against the cushions of their sofa, his half-naked Miyagi lounged comfortably reading a book as the coffee costively steeped. Twin mugs stood on the counter waited to be infuse with the delectably delightful dark drink.

The boards under his feet creaked.

Casually, his lover rose from his seat, tossing aside the book. Dark eyes settled on the ajar door. Grimacing, Shinobu mourned the loss of the inviting view of his lover.

"Shinobu?" Miyagi's deep voice called out. "Are you awake?"

Grimacing, Shinobu opened the door.

Stepping out into the morning light, he prepared to greet his lover.

He stopped suddenly as surprised rise of eyebrows from the older man.

"My. My. Shinobu. You look delicious this morning." Miyagi chuckled.

Glancing down, Shinobu noticed he stood in his nakedness. He stood awkwardly. A faint febrile blush tainted his cheeks as his lover's inspective gaze took in the offering of his naked form. Shinobu dove for the privacy of their bedroom, yanking on the first clothes he found disregard on the floor. The baggy shirt belonged to his lover. Fishing out fresh boxers, he donned them swiftly. He tentatively returned to the living room. The events of the previous evening were still raw in his memory.

The dark haired professor frowned at his lover's demeanor.

"Shinobu."

The student looked up towards the older man.

Open arms temptingly beckoned the youth back into the secure, protective loving embrace of his lover. Accepting the invitation, Shinobu entwined himself around the older man. Burying his face in the crook of Miyagi's neck, he drowned in the delightful scent of his Miyagi. Silent tears spilt from the granite-eyed student. Softly murmuring reassures, the older man attempted to tease out the cause of the tears.

They lay there speaking softly as the coffee cooked and spoilt.

He refused to yield the secrets of his pain.

Tenderly, he sought unspoken affirmation from his lover.

Soft, warm kisses transversed the course of his neck.

Gentle nips teased and tickled the up the column his throat, stoking his need. Reaching the pinnacle of his patience, Miyagi growled hungrily as he pirouetted his lover into seat below. Shinobu gasped entrancingly as Miyagi commenced his assault. Leaning in, he baited his lover with a feathering flurry of soft, silken kisses. Tired of the taunting, Shinobu raised his hands to his lover's dark locks, where he tightened his grip and dragged Miyagi into a frantic, unyielding kiss.

He desperately needed this man.

Lips met in a dominating, demanding battle.

The intercom buzzer interrupted their coitus caresses.

"Damn it!" Miyagi cursed.

He noted the early hour on his lover's watch.

"Are you expecting anyone so early?" Shinobu asked steadying his voice

Seriousness drew Miyagi's eyebrows together. "No, I'm not."

"It must be important for this hour."

Levering himself off the sofa, Miyagi strolled to the hallway.

The buzzer chirped to life again before Miyagi opened the door.

Beyond the living room, he could hear raised voices.

A familiar female voice rumbled through the apartment.

"Risako, why are you here?" An irritated tone edged Miyagi's voice.

Cold fear stung at his chest at the familiar tone of his sister.

"I was in the neighborhood." His sister answered coyly. "So, I brought breakfast."

"While, I appreciate the gesture." Miyagi ground out through gritted teeth. "I told you the answer is no, Risako. No, means no."

A vicious flare of jealous stirred within him. Growling under his breath, he wished his sister would take the hint. Miyagi was politely trying to reject her persistent advances. In his mind's eye, he knew Miyagi was rubbing a frustrated hand down his face.

"I'm sorry, Miyagi." Risako apologized softly. "Actually, there is another reason, I'm here. Shinobu has disappeared."

"What?"

The apartment grew oddly quiet.

Hiccupping sobs profused through the walls.

"Last night was my oka-san birthday," his sister began to explain. "I got a little drunk an dropped an accusation that Shinobu was a homosexual. It got way out of hand, my dad lost it!"

"Slow down, Risako." Miyagi said with a slight hitch to his voice. "How did you know that?"

Silence.

"What do you mean?" Risako asked in a squeaky voice.

"How did you come to assume that Shinobu is gay?" Miyagi repeated with more confidence.

"Well, stories." His sister answered with fresh sobs. "A high school friend of mine witnessed an older guy collecting Shinobu sometimes. She was concerned for Shinobu. Never found out who the guy was. But the rumors spread from that."

"What happened next?" Miyagi probed cautiously. "The Dean lost his temper."

"It was terrible!" Risako responded. "Worse, than that. He's disinheriting Shinobu! He got really worked up last night. He was on the phone to the lawyers when the strain brought on the attack. Everyone's at the hospital now, I wanted to go but my oka-san insisted that I find my brother. She's been worried since he ran off into the rain without even his shoes."

"Why come here?"

A sound of a blowing nose rippled in the silence.

"I've got no idea where his apartment is." His sister wailed. "Truth is no one knows. Shinobu's been so secretive since starting college. Now, I think I know why. He was ashamed to tell us the truth."

"Listen, Risako…"

"I know, Miyagi." His sister butted in. "You probably don't even know where he lives. Sorry for disturbing you, I need to go. If you see him, will you tell him I'm sorry? I'm not sure what's going to happen next. I think Shinobu is going to find himself all alone in the world. Can you look out for him, if you can?"

"Risako, what has the Dean done?"

"I've got to go."

Burying his head deeply into the cushions, Shinobu fought back the traitorous tears. The internal door squeaked as Miyagi re-entered the room. His lover's bare feet pattered against the wooden flooring. Clinks from the kitchen filled the room. Two cups were set on the coffee table, as Miyagi's weight resettled on the sofa.

Long, lanky fingers stroked his hair.

"Care to tell me about the hell of a party you attended last night?" Miyagi asked tenderly.

Shinobu buried deeper into the cushion.

Shaking his head violently.

Tear rolled into the thick fabric that enclosed his face.

"I guess that explains why you came in this morning at three o'clock with no shoes." The older man exhaled tensely. "Shinobu, please talk to me? What can I do?"

"Nothing!" The straw-blond yelled against the cushion. "My world has shattered, Miyagi! How do you fix that?"

Strong arms yanked him up violently.

Looking up into dark obdurate orbs, he trembled.

A bruising kiss claimed his lips.

Enfolding him in amorous arms, Miyagi held him tightly.

"Shinobu, I'm here." Miyagi whispered against his ear as he stroked his back. "I am here. No matter what happens. I will always be here."

**To be continued…**


	6. Chapter 6

**Title: Somewhere In The Middle**

**Author:** **Darkestforever**

**Couple: Junjou Terrorist/ Junjou Egoist**

**Disclaimer**: All characters featured in this story are the creative property of the managaka who loving drew the Junjou universe. I would like to thank the amazing Musicians of the world who created the inspirational music that spurred me on to write these emotional chapters.

_Dedications: This chapter is dedicated to all those affected by the events of 23__rd__ March 2011. I was writing the first draft of this chapter at the time – waking up to this event was shocking and left a mark on me that I could not ignore. Eventually, the events worked their way into the story. My own unique memorial to that day – I pray that no one lost in any tsunami event are forgotten…_

**Author's Note: I owe an apology to all my readers. I hate breaking promises; sadly in the last couple of months, I let you all down by not delivering on the new chapters I promised. I officially apologize from the bottom of my heart. Things have been a little hectic in the real world – but your patience has been appreciated. I hope these chapters don't dim your Christmas spirit, but remind you about the true value of this time of year – for some people it is a difficult time…**

I would like to give a huge thank you for the faithful reviews from Kristin from Italy, X, Cerberus Revised and Alexia Featherchild.

* * *

**Part Six: Together (Spiritfall)**

Life has taught us that love does not consist in gazing at each other,

But in looking outward together in the same direction.

~ Antoine de Saint-Exupery~

"Shinobu, I'm here." Warm, wooing whispers nourished his injured heart. "I'm here."

Cradled safe in the harbour of his lover's arms, Shinobu found solace from the growing tempest of his father's ruthless rejection. This embrace enfolded him with gentleness, protection and fierce love.

Here he was home.

Miyagi's heart claimed him completely. As his tears continued to flow in wonder of the love surround him, he heard the velvety sibilations of his lover. Those simple syllables had the power to banish the clutching claws of his father's callous charges. He would never doubt or feel lost as long as those words resonated in the depths of his soul.

For five years those arms had held him through their trials.

He could sketchily recalled that time in a montage of isochronous images. His supine sanity hung perilously close to the edge. Torn, hollow sensations curled in his chest and stomach as he struggled to face each new day. Through the dishonour of being publicly disinherited for being a homosexual, He almost lost every ounce of motivation he had towards living.

His father carried out his mordant threats.

His sire cut him off penniless, strangled his prospects and denied him publicly.

His family became strangers.

Old friends shunned him, crossing the street to avoid contact.

The name Takatsuki Shinobu became infamous on the streets of Japan.

His father might have intended to leave him vulnerable and desolate, in hope of forcing his son's obedience. The old man overlooked one important independent factor in his plans: one Cimmerian black-eyed literature professor.

Miyagi stood by his younger lover as the world shifted and settled. He was there every time Shinobu wrestled with his self-worth and despised his repulsive reflection in the mirror. When the task of breathing became tediously tiresome. Encouraging him in the times he quivered with hunger and fatigue, yet felt no desire for sustenance or sleep. All through this, he had his Miyagi comfort and patience.

The professor provided everything; a secure home, paid his debts, and supported him to finish his education. Within six months, Shinobu found himself living in a new address, meeting new friends and working for the first time in his life. What had once been effortless to him became a challenge; there were dark days, but he found himself overcoming the acherontic abyss concealed in his mind. In time, he found himself standing taller with confidence and appreciation for his own achievements.

It was sitting on this very couch; he made a decision that changed his world. Glancing over his shoulder at his approaching lover, Shinobu smiled. He never regretted abandoning the Takatsuki name. Miyagi's face upon seeing the change of name deed had been utterly stunned. The older professor had quibbled with him for nearly a month over changing it back.

"This is the one honour I can give to you," Shinobu had told his ebony-eyed lover, as Miyagi fiddled with his crooked tie.

"Shinobu… I…"

The granite-eyed youth cut of his lover's response with a possessive kiss. "Just say, I love you."

"I do love you, Shinobu-chin…but…" a conceding smile twitched at the older man's lips. " Your stubborn you know that!"

"Yes, but you love it."

The professor muttered to himself, glancing to his watch for a timely distraction.

"Dammit! We have to go, right now or you will be late for your blasted graduation!" Miyagi cursed. "The honour student, graduating at the top of the class can't be late!"

As spring dawn, Miyagi Shinobu had entered the adult world.

He was a successful top law graduate.

Employed by the eminent international law firm, Allen & Overy Gaikokuho Kyodo.

And was the beloved adoptive son of the Miyagi family.

Descending the stage with his degree in hand, he met his lover's august aphotic eyes; beside the towering figure of the professor sat with the members of his graduation entourage. Wildly applauding with embarrassing whistles, his lover's colleague, Hanaori-sensei sat on the far left, earning disapproving looks from the audience. On Miyagi's right sat two older women. Miyagi's mother, Miyagi Yasu, clutched a handkerchief to her teary eyes as she proudly watched him. The white haired lady, the matriarch of the Miyagi family, winked at him as he passed dressed in his grand robes. Miyagi Kirika was definitely as character. He could see a lot of his lover's stubbornness in this vernal-hearted woman. Resuming his seat, he basked in the sensations of joy and contentment.

This was the gift of acceptance.

Coffee sloshed over the rim of the glass latte mugs, as his lover placed them on the sturdy wooden coffee table. He cast a spurious sour scowl at the older man. The professor chuckled, leaning over to ruffle his strawish locks of hair.

"Quit messing with this old man's head," his lover quipped playfully. "You seemed deep in thought a moment ago, something you want to share."

"I was thinking about graduation."

"What part? There were a lot of memorable moments." Miyagi sighed perching on the arm of their sofa. "My personal favourite remains that moment my grandmother pinched Hanaori arse so she could stand next to you."

Shinobu snorted a soft laugh. "A very eventful day. To be fair, I didn't remember your family being so quirky."

"I don't think they really approved of my marriage," Miyagi mused into his coffee. "My grandmother refused to attend ceremony. Pig-headed stubborn woman."

"They are a wonderful family."

"Indeed." Miyagi murmured thoughtfully, sipping the sweet rich blend of coffee. "Drive me mad most of the time, then boldly say that I love them."

"But you do."

"Of course, I do." Miyagi answered soberly, dark eyes staring at the reflection in the coffee glass. "I treasure them. There isn't a day, I am not grateful for their survival."

Reaching for his coffee, Shinobu hesitated.

Shifting closer to his dark-haired lover, he rested his sandy blond mane against the professor shoulder. Strong, long fingers reached up to stroke those silky sandy strands. Tucking his head under Miyagi's chin, Shinobu listened to the familiar comforting rhythm of the beat of his lover's heart.

Despite their closeness, he knew Miyagi had drifted distantly from him.

He knew where his dark-eyed lover's thoughts had wandered.

A mark rested upon all the hearts of Japan from that fateful March day.

Months before the troubles with his own family begun, he had helpless watched his lover toil with the terror that the tsunami inflicted. Miyagi's childhood town was annihilated by the animosity of the wave surge. The Miyagi clan lost two beloved members and countless acquaintances in one day.

He had held Miyagi tightly that night.

As communication was restored, Miyagi waited in desperate hope for a call. As the terrible news rolled across the world, a silver of joy crept into their home. His grandmother phoned from a Red Cross aid worker's cell simply to say one sentence.

"Your mother is creating havoc at my house!"

Upon their first visit back to the sea-town, Shinobu had been struck by the utter destruction that greeted them. Miyagi had been too caught up with the rescuers and local officials to notice him wandering off.

Standing at the ruined site of the hotel, where they had made love for the first time chilled him to the core. Alone, he had trudged the steps to the graveyard on the hill, pausing only once to pick a few handfuls of wild flowers growing freely beside the path. For the second time, he attended sensei's grave. Laying the colourful posy down, he spoke kindly to the departed woman and graciously thanked sensei for protecting Miyagi's loved ones.

This secluded spot had provided safety and sheltered for forty local residents, including Miyagi's mother and grandmother who had been visiting the Shrine at the foot of the hill. Sunset beckoned him back to the crippled harbour town below, as he left, the sun sprung from behind the pinkish clouds bathing the harbour in golden light. Smiling to himself, he descended the path thinking of momentary burst was Sensei's reply. Her acceptance of his gratitude for protecting the precious people important to their Miyagi, but also her thanks for loving the man, she was forced to leave behind.

Huddled together in silence in the present, both reflected on the troubles that had brought them together. Both had endured losses. The price of love sometimes had a steep price tag. As granite grey eyes observed the dark onyx orbs that lovingly caressed the face to which they belong; neither man would opt to chance the path that had lead them here. Their scars had sown a bond of love that was truly unique and rare.

"What is the first step?" Miyagi said coarsely, overcoming the choking dryness in his throat.

"Forms. Lots of forms."

"I suspect no matter how we try, this will reach the media." Miyagi puffed.

"It is a possibility, we should prepare for." Shinobu answered, drooping his head anxiously. "What about you?"

"I think I will be dismissed for inappropriate conduct, if I'm lucky."

"It isn't far!"

"Maybe, I will be fortune and get away with a verbal warning." Miyagi smiled solemnly. "Shinobu, we knew one day we would brave this storm when they found us out."

Shinobu fingers clenched tightly in the lapel of his lover's shirt, as he whispered; "You will sacrificing twenty years of a career for me!"

Tear dripped from his stormy grey eyes.

"Shinobu, I love you." His lover said softly.

"I know, but it's not fair!"

"A career can be changed or rebuild," the dark- haired professor replied. "I love my literature, Shinobu. But it is you that I am ardently enthralled with. No poem of Bashou compares with the rewards, I reap from spending a night with you in my arms."

Gently a finger hooked under his chin.

Their kiss was sweetly soft.

Lips met in a ghostly reassuring caress.

Pulling back, Miyagi smiled. "I have something to do, Shinobu."

Miyagi rose from their embrace. He crossed the room in a brief number of strides. Grabbing the cordless phone, Shinobu watched his lover dial a number. Sitting up, the young terrorist peered up perplexed at his lover who began to pace the room.

"Moshi-moshi hahaoya!" Miyagi jubilantly greeted his mother.

Holding his breath nervously, Shinobu restlessly listened in on the conversation.

"Huh? What kind of greeting is that for your son!"

"Gomen, I know I should call more often."

"What?"

"Mama, you know visiting you is still difficult."

"Excuse me, you're the ones who chose to stay there."

"Oka-san! There is no need to like that!"

The conversation continued apace like this for sometime as Miyagi Yasu chided her only, rather neglectful son. Shinobu listened with growing amusement as his lover grappled with his formidable mother on the other end of the line. He was still attempting to reach the point of the call, when Miyagi's patience wore thin. He broke the news bluntly, stunning his mother and Shinobu.

"It's simple oka-san… I'm gay!" Miyagi rushed impatiently. "I'm in love with a man!"

A terrible silence dropped.

From the handset, Shinobu heard a wail.

"Oka-san, please don't cry." The professor urged gently, guilt and grief etched on his face. "Please let me explain…."

"Oba-san, I didn't do anything."

"No, I… I just told oka-san some bad news that is all."

"Well, yes."

"No."

"Yes, I understand I'm the only son of the family."

"But I'm happy. Yes, we do live together."

"No, don't think there is a law like that in Japan."

"Nothing is stopping me in the future I suppose."

"Is that your only objection?"

"What about oka-san?"

"Leave her to you? I'm surprised you're taking this well."

"How long? Erm… maybe six years… why does that matter?"

"Because I am a hopeless case with a broken heart and bad taste in women?"

Shinobu had to agree on that point.

"Oba-san, that is a terrible thing to say!"

"Not all of them I dated were like that!"

"I think you will like him."

Hanging up, Miyagi placed the handset back on its stand.

He sunk into the vacant armchair opposite from his grey-eyed lover.

"They want to meet you." He smiled.

* * *

_Two months later…._

"The court appoints, Miyagi Yoh as the supervisor of Kusama Nowaki guardianship." The judge's voice boomed through the courtroom. "I also find that the signed Nin'i koken1 agreement is legally binding. Counsel, the certification for this case will be ready for collection tomorrow. Court is adjourned."

Relief seeped through his tense muscle.

Taking a deep breath, Shinobu collected his papers and rose shakily from his seat.

They had done it.

Their four-month legal conflict was over.

"Well done, Takatsuki-san," his legal-assistant smiled. "You must be relieved that this is over?"

"Indeed." Shinobu answered closing his briefcase. "You may return to the office. I will see you tomorrow, I have some news to deliver to our client."

"Sir, may I offer some advice?"

"Of course."

"The court has a side door exit that counsel sometimes opt to use." His assistant whispered softly. " With the circus going on outside, might be a good idea if you ask to slip out that way."

Shinobu smiled at his colleague.

Their acceptance and support had been incredible in these difficult times.

Stopping at the doors, the young terrorist prepared himself. Despite the media frenzy dying down, the vultures were still circling. At first, the application had backwater news, until someone recognised his former name. Broadcast his golden name drew the attention of the media. Shinobu held his suspicions about who tipped off the press regarding his lover. Parasitic journalists vying for an interview with villainous educator who seduced vulnerable male students had besieged the hospital.

The papers had dragged Miyagi's name and credentials through the proverbial mud, as the darker history of their relationship came to light. Risako's bitter commitments had turned his lover into a social pariah, as she voiced her disgust that her former husband was toying with her little brother. The proud professor was reported to the police for his involvement with an under-age minor; the investigation concluded there was legal evidence to suggest a criminal act had been committed. It has been a spine-chilling moment for Shinobu as he realised how much danger he had almost placed his lover in because of his impatience and stubborn nature as a teenager.

The juicy factor they had been brother-in-laws spiralled the story to a national headline. Sensing the dangerous ground Miyagi tottered on, Shinobu conceded to giving one television interview to tell their side of the story. An angry conversation with the hosts had followed as the accusations rolled. Miyagi had never been his professor. He had attended a completely different university. Only after his sister's divorce had he returned from Australia. He'd loved Miyagi since observing him in the library and in a knowing moment of a fateful meeting.

International organisation caught wind of the story, pledging support and resources.

The university impeached Miyagi after a biased internal review.

A protest lead by the M-University Students re-captured the public eye's attention as their application was due to be heard by the courts. The voices of the students demonstrated the true nature of his lover's character. Professor Miyagi Yoh was respected and honoured by students and graduates alike. Colleagues from the university spoke highly of him for his teaching methods and enthusiasm to inspire the minds and hearts of those under his instruction.

Although, Miyagi's teaching license was invoked, several publishers had approached his lovers hoping he would continue to write literature for them.

Securing his lover's income for the future.

Ticking all the boxes of the requirements of a guardian.

"Thank you, my friend."

"No problem, you go. I'll sort the rest of this out."

Picking up his briefcase, he hurried to the grand lobby. Dressed smartly in a dashing black suit, white shirt and dashing blue tie, his love sat nervously watching the foot traffic dispersing from the court. As their eyes met across the room, Miyagi rushed to his feet.

"Well?" He asked nervously.

"The judge granted us Kusama's custody." Shinobu smiled at his lover. "He will be transferred your guardianship upon issue of the supervisory paper tomorrow. I guess this means we should prepare for his discharge in time for Christmas."

A snort of tension easing laughter escaped his lover's lips. "What a bunch we will make, Shinobu-chin."

The younger lawyer sternly frowned at the dark-haired professor.

"Don't call me that embarrassing name in public!" He hissed.

"Apologies, Shinobu." Miyagi chuckled further. "What a crew! An old unemployed professor, a pretty boy lawyer and a mad-doctor! What an interesting way to end the year!"

* * *

**Notes:**

**1 -** Nin'i koken is a Japanese legal term that means 'voluntary guardianship agreement'. It was introduced in 2000, as part of amendments to the Civil Code on Adult Guardianship laws in Japan. It enables individuals to choose a guardian in advance to perform personal and estate management of their affairs. A supervisor is appointed in these cases has a duty to consider their ward's mental and physical wellbeing and living arrangements.

Sourced from 'Adult Guardianship and the Aging Society – Enhancing Society's Role to Ensure the Quality of Life' written by Takashi Abe, from the Social Development Research Group

**2 - ** Did you spot that the title song of Part Five? Did you recognize the artist is one of the voice actors from Junjou Romantica? Gold stars to the people who can name that character!

Chapter Seven will be up for Christmas Day - as it has a Christmas time theme and a guest appearance from another BL couple who impressed me in a recent anime.

One last thing to say: Merry Christmas to all my readers, I hope santa is good to you, so be nice with your reviews!


	7. Chapter 7

**Title: Somewhere In The Middle**

**Author:** **Darkestforever**

**Couple: Junjou Terrorist/ Junjou Egoist**

**Disclaimer**: All characters featured in this story are the creative property of the managaka who loving drew the Junjou universe. I would like to thank the amazing Musicians of the world who created the inspirational music that spurred me on to write these emotional chapters.

**Author's Note:**

**Part Seven: My December (Linkin Park)**

It has been said, 'time heals all wounds.'

I do not agree; the wounds remain.

In time, the time, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue,

And the pain lessens.

But it is never gone.

~ Rose Kennedy ~

Time can heal all wounds eventually.

But not all hearts mend.

Some hurts run too deep.

Alone, left behind in their own grief, some are slowly poisoned by their septic scars. Life becomes a desolate place; colour seeps away, leaving a jejune imprint in the their mind. The face of the world becomes a sinister synthetic realm devoid of joy, hope and love.

No season becomes bleaker than Christmas.

The once secret seasonal magic that enlightened and bewitched their hearts loses its charm. They come to see a strange power bewildering weak-minded souls. Invisible spells capture unsuspecting folk as they meandered intoxicated by the teasing trimmings and trappings of the holiday spirit. This was the drab world Kusama Nowaki now saw since his release from the hospital.

Watching the snow flurry down outside the window, Nowaki could hear the distance sounds of merriment from the street below. He could not see the enchanted world bathed in the twinkling, superficial holiday lights. He was blind to the vibrant colours and joyous sounds that transformed the coldness of winter. Crowds of jolly people jostled with the frosty cold, clutching closely conspicuous bags full of wrapped presents. Mirthful smiles donned the faces of men, women and children. Chirpy cheesy carols thronged the air. Delicious, beguiling foreign fragrances of cinnamon, ginger and nutmeg drifted on the air.

Once he had been the man who cherished this season.

He revelled in stealing frosty winter kisses.

Dancing under the silvery showers of snowflakes.

Searching for that eye-catching cavalier Christmas fir that reached the ceiling.

Decorating the home with ostentatious tinsel, psychedelic fairy lights and bright baubles.

A bitter jealousy roused in the pit of his stomach as he observed the blissful bodies below.

Yet, now all those joyous memories were bitterly painful.

Jubilant laughter rose from a group of friends carrying hot, sweet pastries.

His dark indigo eyes were drawn to the party. While the male buffoons danced about like oafs throwing snowballs and the girls laughed at their childish antics, a tall chestnut haired youth only had eyes for the blushing black haired man at his side. Resting his hand under his chin, Nowaki watched the group leisurely loiter down the side street that was his temporary home. Shy gloved fingers twisted and entwined as they wandered in the privacy of the lane.

The perfect moment of sweetness painful pinched at his heart.

"Yukina!"

The chestnut haired man paused in the fluttering snowflakes, he shone a princely smile at his shy partner before turning. "Yes, Arakawa-chan?"

"Are you and Kisa-san coming to the party this evening?"

Dark amber eyes settled on then taunt, frozen figure beside him.

"I don't think so." He smiled kindly to his friends.

"Aww!" A blond girl in a pink bobbled hat declared. "I was hoping you would come Kisa-kun!"

"Another time, Karou-chan." The dazzling prince answered.

"Okay, Yukina. Remember don't be a stranger Kisa-san!" Arakawa-chan beamed. "Come on team! We have a hall to decorate for tonight!"

Groans thronged the air.

As the couple left, Nowaki watched the group of friends partner off into teams for their assigned duties for evening's event. He observed two odd males who watched the disappearing couple as the snow blurred them from sight. Distantly, he could hear their conversation.

"What do you think about that?"

"Certainly a shock." The smaller man answer, puffing icy breathes into the air. "Yukina was like the most manly of us all; yet since graduation, he's being living with a boyfriend all along. That's a long time dude!"

"Guess, he didn't think he could trust us to be cool with it."

"What are you two morons gossiping about?" The blond girl with the pink hat pounced upon the two stragglers.

"Nothing, Karou-chan!"

"You being mean about Yukina, Narise-kun?"

"No! I'm just surprised that is all." The smaller youth snorted into the cold air. "I expected Yukina to introduce us to a really cute girl today."

"Yeah, it was a bit of surprise to find out he batted for the other team."

"So what's the issue?" The girl huffed.

"There isn't one." The boy sighed in defeat. "Just surprised he didn't feel he could trust us."

A slow slip of a smile graced the blond girl's face. "You shouldn't think like that… he trusted us enough to share their secret eventually. It's tough being different- my parents haven't spoken to my sister in three years since she brought her girlfriend home."

"Eh!" Both boys declared at the astonishing declaration.

"Karou-chan… your sister… is…"

"Is that a problem?" The girl growled grabbing the flapping boy's scarf dragging him to her eye-level.

"NO!"

"Good! Only prejudice losers would have a problem with love." The girl announced with a tense smile. "Yukina is happy, that is all that matters."

"You're right. There is nothing more important than being happy," the taller boy said wrapping an arm around the girl. "Come on, I suspect you have decorations for me to hang right?"

Laughing, the girl leant into warm, supportive presence next her. "You bet, Rei."

The world seemed to be changing again.

Salty tears threatened to spill from his cobalt eyes.

An angry fist hit the window frame.

A frustrated growl slipped from his lips.

Life was not fair.

A distant shrill alarm chimed from across the room. Stepping back from the window, Nowaki strolled to the coughing phone. Rows of prescription bottles lined up like soldiers to greet him. Medicines to oppressed the madness that stewed within his memories. He was a phlegmatic phantom under the influence of these drugs. Kusama Nowaki ceased to exist; he was lulled into a dreamless world of numbness after taking these powerful tablets.

Beyond of the window, he could still hear the lively laughter of the group. Each sparkling sound of that laughter was rich and flourishing with life. Thumbing through the rows of medicine, he struggled to remember when his laugh had contained the same lively energy. He couldn't even remember the last time he decorated for Christmas. He had made a half-heart attempt one year in vain. Unscrewing the lid of his medicine bottle, he shuck out two cylinder capsules into the palm of his hand.

He eyed them with a sense of repulsion.

They were pointless, but necessary.

He wished he could have the strength to flush them.

To be himself again.

But he never would be.

Not without his Hiro-san.

Kusama Nowaki had died in the moment his beloved Hiro-san gasped his last breath.

Picking up his empty water glass, he entered the softly lit living room. In the corner by the balcony door, a medium sized tree stood glittering as its fairy lights shimmered and flickered. Gold, green and red baubles gleamed as their reflective metallic surfaces radiated the light across the dark room. The young lawyer certainly had a flare for design. He had toiled for hours garnishing the tree with the right colour scheme and illumination effects. Neatly wrapped presents were stacked beneath the lower branches of the sacrificial fir.

A grimace tugged at his lips.

He should have purchased something for his hosts to demonstrate his appreciation their Miyagi had become involved in his care was still lost in the blurry recesses of his memory.

Confusion had greeted his return to the conscious world concerning his adversary Miyagi Yoh. Laggardly his body responded to the hospital's indolent treatments. The day they orchestrated reviving him from his healing coma, he had been confused to find the dark-haired literature professor perching over his hospital bed. This man, who he had vigorously resented for years, stood watch over him in the uncertain days of his recovery. Argued with him. Furiously spurred him onwards. Dragged kicking and screaming if necessary. Always pushing. His first hesitant steps at physiotherapy were the reward of the desire to punch the smug bastard for his taunts.

In the six months of his hospitalisation, he had possessed the time to study his former rival. The older man appeared frequently in the company of a youth, who had been just a boy the last time they crossed paths at the funeral. Miyagi's brother-in-law was the sandy haired youth with a punk attitude and emergency bags of encouragement. He was a qualified lawyer, residing with college professor guardian after dispute with his family.

He did not understand why this man had resumed responsibility for him. He has sat in his hospital bed bemused as the young lawyer, Miyagi Shinobu, explained the options for the immediate future care for him. The doctor had pressed upon him her concerns of a length hospital stay.

"Kusama-sensei," she softly said, looking at him through sparkly glasses. "Please think about this offer carefully. I think you need friends right now; people who will support you. You tried it you way; and we almost lost you. Please let others help you."

Shinobu had explained the forms.

Simply, he was allowing Miyagi to be his guardian until he was of sound mind again.

That made him laugh.

No force on earth would ever make him right again.

His head ached.

His eyes settled on the gifts again.

It was too late now; it was Christmas Eve.

Turning on the kitchen tap, he filled the glass. Slipping the mephitic, metallic tablets past his lips, he scowled as unappetizing flavour settled on his tongue. The cool water drenched out the worst of the taste, but the powdery residue stuck to his palate causing him to gag. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to swallow again. With another gulp of water, he returned to his borrowed room.

The room was a decent size with a large double bed, drawers for storage, a walk in closest and several bookcases bursting with various tomes on law, literature and cooking. Greasy stains on the wall displayed a tell tale sign that there had once been more tacked to the wall than the present pieces of artwork.

Pictures of the young lawyer's girlfriend perhaps, Nowaki mused to himself.

Shinobu had kindly given up his personal space for him when he was discharged a week ago. The young lawyer was presently sleeping in Miyagi's den. Frowning, he reflected on his host's relationship. Something was delusively deviant about their brother-in-law status. Moments of secretive whispers, lingering touches and possessive glances. He had learnt at the hospital, Shinobu was Miyagi's relative under his guardianship after a family dispute. He accepted this without question, too caught in his own little world to noticed the tell tale signs of the true nature of the lawyer and professor's relationship.

Draped and dotted around the room also were his few measly belongings.

Cowardly, he had refused to return to his own apartment after his discharge from the hospital. His hosts had exchange worried glances. The older professor had merely nodded and mumbled under his breath. Shinobu had been charged with escorting him to a reasonably priced store to purchase necessary clothing and personal items. Miyagi had dropped them off early to a general clothes retailer; sitting in the car the dark eyed professor had waited for them. Five t-shirts, two hoodies, two sets of pyjamas, three pair of jeans, seven pair of boxers and a few odd pairs of socks later, Nowaki found himself unpacking in his strange new home. Shinobu had of course found him a few extra pieces from Miyagi's wardrobe. Only an inch or two taller than the six-foot professor, the shirts and sweaters had fit him nearly-perfectly.

At times, he longed to return to his own home. There were items he wanted to collect for his own comfort. Something inside him, shrunk back in panic at the thought of visiting that apartment. He was afraid of the ghost that guarded the adytum of the living mausoleum that was his home. The stacks of books that stood untouched, waiting for their master to return to read them. Hand-written notes that waited to be typed for a paper his lover had intended to present. Neat piles of folded and pressed shirts that would never be worn again. An empty laundry basket that stood valiantly waiting for a day's worth of clothes that would never return home.

A cold shiver pricked his skin.

He could not think about their home without that reaction.

How had he endured all those years in that crypt?

Leaning back against the closed door, he took a deep shaky breath. He needed to think of other things. The glass dully thudded against the surface of the chest of drawers. The room felt cold. A shadow moved in the glass. Nowaki saw a flicker of a reflection in the window. Jerking back, he found himself breathing heavily. It was a figment of his imagination. Summoning the calming techniques the therapist had taught him, he attempted to calm himself.

Six years on, those eyes still haunted him.

Those empty, expressionless eyes of his dead lover.

"No!"

Spinning away from the window, Nowaki felt the boiling, bilious anger convulsed in his mind. Virulently, he shook his head from side to side trying to unhinge the toxic thoughts seeping into his consciousness.

He did not want to remember.

A hot stream of anguish poured through his body.

Tears blurred his sight.

Holding his head in his hands, Nowaki struggled to remain grounded.

Closing his eyes, he returned to moments spent with his lover. Curled up on their sofa watching television. Hiro-san's adorable, angry face. The spitfire tsundere cursing his name, blaming him for the expensive bills, being late in the morning and the accusation of perverted thoughts. The shorter brunette struggling to reach the top dusty shelf in the second-hand bookstore, even on his tiptoes. Sly stolen glances from the cinnamon-eyed professor, even when he thought Nowaki wasn't looking. Enjoying his Hiro-san's tasteless meals late at night, before crawling into bed beside his sleeping lover. The warm embraces of Sunday mornings. Listening to the beautiful sound of Hiro-san's living heart beat. Feeling the bite of his lover's nails as he cried out in pleasure. Goose pimples spread across his skin as he relived the sensation of being cocooned in the heat of Hiro-san's love.

Six years had not eroded the power of these memories.

This world made no sense without Hiro-san.

Home comforts of his life had vanished.

The glow of Hiro-san's scent had faded from his bed sheets.

Each day he woke without the familiar warmth spooned around him.

Empty cold numbness greeted him when opened his eyes.

He was surrounded by strangers eyes him in a distasteful derision.

Mewls of his sobs echoed in the still of the quiet apartment.

His chest heaved, constricted by the sobs that caused his whole body to spasm.

Tightness grew in his chest as he struggled to breath.

A door thudded.

"Nowaki?" A kind, concerned voice tinged with alarm shouted out. "Nowaki, where are you?"

Hurried footsteps thumped against the wooden flooring.

The door hinges squeaked.

A soft voice caressed his consciousness

A gush of air moved past him.

In the airy, light dizziness that ascended over him, he could feel his heart pounding.

His limbs grew heavier with a burning tingling sensation.

A distant hiss bubbled on the air.

Cool plastic caressed his face.

The air suddenly smelt different.

He forced his eyes open to a blurry world.

He struggled for a moment in fear.

Two small warm hands grasped his shoulders. "Try to breathe with me. Ready. One. Two. Three."

Together, they breathe in time, a slow deep steady rhythm.

Trembling, he inhaled a depth breath with his aching convulsing muscles.

"You're fine, Nowaki." The soothing voice whispered. "Deep breaths. Doctor said these you might get more of these attacks. That's right. Just keep breathing."

He nods as his body quivers with the strain and fatigue of the panic attack.

His still healing lungs sear in pain, as their cells oxidize once again.

A warm living hand brushed loose bangs from his face.

Seizing that hand, he kissed it softly.

He dared not look up into the face of his delusion that sat close by.

It would not be those dark cinnamon eyes of the man he loved.

All he would see would be the mask of death. The filthy, blood caked face that he had cradled to his chest on that rainy night as he howled in agony. The pale, vulnerable profile that lay against the cold metal of the mortuary table that he had been forced to identify. Or the still, flawless mask that lay in the casket on show for strangers. These were the last visages of the man he loved that haunted his memory.

"You're a dream," he murmured to his companion hampered by the oxygen mask. "A terrible dream."

"Come on, let's move you into the living room." The voice nervously jabbered on.

Slipping the mask off, he clambered to his feet awkwardly.

His smaller companion struggled to balance his additional weight.

They stumbled together into the living room.

His cumbersome, oxygen-deprived body treacherously gave up half away across the room.

"Watch out!" He cried.

They are falling.

Together they collide with the floor, in a twisted pile of limbs and torsos.

Hiro-san's angry words filled his head.

Cold, wet clothes clung to his skin.

"_Let go, don't touch me!"_

An image of the dark-haired professor kissing his Hiro-san flashed in his mind.

He has to act now!

He couldn't lose him.

Not again.

"Hiro-san." He mournfully gasped.

Entwining his fingers with his partners, he leant into capturing his lover's lips.

A startled gasp escaped his Hiro-san.

_See. No kiss compares with ours, Hiro-san. _

Slender, soft lips protested against his.

The touch felt alive, real… but tasted wrong…

He struggled with Hiro-san's failing arms.

Why was his lover fighting him?

"Nowaki!" Those lips yelled against his. "You're hurting me! Let go!"

_No. _

_I can't let you go again. _

_I can't Hiro-san._

Sharp teeth bit his lip.

"NOWAKI, I AM NOT KAMIJOU!" A voice shrieked.

Periwinkle pale blue eyes snapped open.

Shaking his head, Nowaki stared up at the golden glow of the Christmas tree.

This wasn't the university library.

Outside the window, snow fell.

"Hiro-san, where…" The words died on his lips as he peered down.

Terrified stormy grey eyes glared up at him.

Pinned beneath him, trembling in trepidation was the young sandy-haired youth.

"Shinobu?" He questioned puzzled by the position of the younger man.

Distant noise clattered in the hallway.

A shadow lingered in the doorway.

"SHINOBU!"

A blur of black moved swiftly from the far side of the room.

Pain seared through his jaw.

Cold metal collided with his head.

Glass smashed.

The hefty weight of the Christmas tree crashed into his lap winding him.

The granite-eyed youth cries into the shirt of the older man who holds him preciously.

Dark cold eyes glared at him, rage burnt in those atramentous orbs.

Shinobu whispered something shakily to the older man.

Miyagi cursed something under his breath. His attention glued to the frightened young lawyer encircled in his arms. With a grunt of effort, the dark professor lifted the terrified youth up, spun on his heel and disappeared from sight.

The delusion ended.

Guilt hummed through Nowaki's veins.

This attack was worse than the day he psychically attacked Miyagi.

Nowaki leant back into the cold glass of the balcony window.

Tears burnt his eyes.

_What have you done?_ His rational mind screamed to his consciousness.

How could he attack Shinobu like that?

Listening to the distance whispery voices, he shoved aside the fallen tree. Limbering up to his full height, he sought refuge in his borrowed room. Like a drunk, he stumbled along using the wall for support. He didn't bother to close the door. Exhausted, he collapsed on the bed.

Wishing the world away, he closed his eyes as he did every day, praying this would be the last time.

A gruff voice woke him.

"Come on, I said get up."

Uncurling his limps, he looked up into the angry face of the older literature professor.

"Get your shoes and coat."

"Why?" He asked still dopey from slumber.

"Because, I said so." Miyagi bit out impatiently, turning for the door. He paused by the rows of medicine. "Bring these too."

_To Be Continued..._

* * *

**Final chapter of this side-story is coming. Bring your tissues.**


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